Walking wounded
by curdled-milk
Summary: AU. The f4 as one seriously disturbed former boyband, makino as a shrink with a dark past. who is helping whom, here?
1. Prologue in which three boys appear

~~~Massive pissiness is my excuse for this, plus I'm taking a break from idiots. I don't own HYD, but I'd like a free trial sample of Akira, oh yes, I would. Does that come with a free sample of Soujiro too? Even better. . .  
  
This is an AU. It is set in the US, hence all names will be in the western style, family name second. Wow it feels weird to write them that way. Everyone is in their mid twenties. Think 25-7 range. Expect angst. Duh. Ok is that everything? Of course not. As ever, therez warnings for squeamish people, but I'm not saying what they are.~~~  
  
Tsukasa sprawled across his bed, staring sightlessly at yet another drab and cracked hotel room ceiling. His lips were pressed tightly together in his habitual scowl, and his fingers, laced together behind his head, twitched restlessly to some unheard rhythm. Outside, a cold rain pelted down from the dark November skies.  
  
It had been a night like this that day as well. . . Icy rain falling, freezing one to the core, blinding one with the needlelike intensity of the water falling on unprotected eyes. They'd certainly been blinded. Them or the other. . . The police had never been sure just whose fault it had been in the end.  
  
A well muscled arm shot out abruptly and fumbled for the remembered bottle on the bedside table, as Tsukasa fought the memories. Anniversaries were the worst time for him. He couldn't bear to think of how many more he had yet to suffer through. His scowl deepened, darkened, as his questing hand failed to find the liquid oblivion he sought.  
  
"It's no use, Tsukasa." Akira's concerned voice emanated from the other bed occupying this drab hotel room. "I already poured it down the drain."  
  
Tsukasa's brows drew together thunderously, and his breath hissed out through clenched teeth. "You had no right."  
  
"If he hadn't, I would have." The room's third occupant spoke drowsily, as if he wasn't quite awake yet. "You gotta take better care of your liver. .You'll never catch a woman if you're all jaundiced from liver failure."  
  
Soujiro's jaw clicked shut, as he realized he may have said too much, again. . . He closed his eyes against the sight of Tsukasa pushing to his feet and restlessly pacing back and forth before the rain streaked window. Maybe if he kept his eyes shut, he could go back to that dream he'd been having before -- the one involving Miss September and that groupie from last night. . .yes the one with the fascinating tattoos on her breasts.  
  
"You're drooling on my shoulder." Akira squirmed a bit, as he shifted under Soujiro's weight. The two men were currently sharing one small bed, having forfeited the other to Tsukasa as usual, and now they lay entangled, also as usual, in a comfortable state of undress. Soujiro was using Akira's shoulder as a pillow; his arm outflung across Akira's chest, while Akira absently stroked Soujiro's back soothingly with a free hand. Looking at them, one might have mistaken them for players in some erotic film; but that would have been far from the truth. In fact, all appearance to the contrary, the two men were purely platonic friends. It was just that Soujiro found comfort in human contact, and couldn't bear to be alone for long-- much less to sleep in an empty bed. Similarly, Tsukasa sought comfort in the bottle, and Rui. . . Well, everyone knew what had happened to him, and the less said about That, the better.  
  
Tsukasa turned his stormy gaze away from the rain to stare at his two friends.  
  
"You're not alone, Tsukasa." Akira took up where Soujiro left off, but more tactfully. "We're here still."  
  
"We're not going anywhere. . ." Soujiro added softly  
  
"He left." It was almost an accusation, the words loaded with pain and anger.  
  
Akira's hand left off its soothing caresses to cover Soujiro's mouth. He knew what the next words would be. After all, they'd had this same conversation a hundred times before. And it never got any better. Soujiro would accuse Tsukasa of being determined to follow in Rui's footsteps, one bottle of vodka at a time. Tsukasa would shout back something hateful about how Soujiro was the one angling to get syphilis or AIDS at the rate he was going. Soujiro would snap and start in on the, "you're not the only one who's hurting here." speech, followed by the, "You're not the only one who lost someone." attack. Tsukasa would shout back that he'd lost more than any of them, and Soujiro would try to hit him, or sometimes, just break down and cry, depending. Akira, of course, Almost never got a word in edgewise. He'd learned to give up on that long ago. Instead, he'd be the one to patch things up afterwards, calming Soujiro. Soothing Tsukasa. Forgetting his own, lesser hurts by helping his friends. After all, he hadn't lost as much as they had.  
  
"I'm going out." Tsukasa, of course, hadn't failed to notice the way Akira silenced Soujiro.  
  
"I'll come with you." Akira attempted to extricate himself from under Soujiro.  
  
"No, I'll go." Soujiro turned dark eyes on Akira, "I need to get out anyway."  
  
"You sure?" Akira was concerned; the state they were in, they'd probably start fighting the second they left the room, and if he had to take another week of Tsukasa refusing to speak to Soujiro, then he thought his head just might explode.  
  
"I don't need a chaperone." Tsukasa glared sulkily at his friends.  
  
"Yes, you do." Akira remembered all too clearly what had happened last time they'd made the mistake of letting Tsukasa wander the streets by himself-- the bars, the liquor stores, the drinking, the fights. . . If they were lucky, he'd only punch out some fool reporter who tried to get too close, but sometimes Tsukasa would explode for no reason at all-- at least none that they could fathom, and strike out at random. Those were the incidents that just screamed "LAWSUIT" in big capital letters. It was all good publicity though, apparently. The fans just loved seeing Tsukasa's steely glare plastered across the papers as he nursed bloody fists. . . The trio had been lucky so far, that they'd been able to buy off all Tsukasa's victims. But that luck couldn't last forever. So now, Soujiro and Akira never let him out of their sight for long. And never, ever did they leave him anywhere where he could drink unsupervised. It was tough to police him at all times like this, but what else could they do-- for when you came right down to it, the only ones they had to rely on were each other. No one else would have understood.  
  
To be continued  
  
~~~man, is that a vague prologue or what? . This fic is the curdled take on 'f4 in the music industry' standard au device/setting, in case you hadn't guessed already. ~~~ 


	2. Chapter 1 in which soujiro loses tsukasa

Tsukasa stalked through the hotel lobby with Soujiro in close pursuit. Soujiro had barely had time to pull on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt before Tsukasa had taken off. This was part of the game. Tsukasa was impulsive, angry, and a burgeoning alcoholic, but he wouldn't leave his friend behind this early in the night-- he knew that he needed the support and restraint only his friends could provide. Even he didn't like it when he lost control. But that didn't mean he had to make Soujiro's job easy for him. And it wouldn't stop him from trying to ditch Soujiro entirely when his cravings got too intense.  
  
"Slow down, Tsukasa!" Soujiro grumbled, "Are you in that much of a hurry to freeze our asses off out there?"  
  
"Nobody ever said you had to come along. You can always go back to bed." Tsukasa didn't even pause as he wrenched the door open and plunged headlong into the street.  
  
"That's one thing I can't do." Soujiro cursed softly under his breath, shooting a wistful look back at thee brightly lit interior of the hotel, and imagining the soft comfort of warm blankets and warm arms, despite the eternal discomfort of hotel beds. Hastily he shook off the daydream and grimly followed Tsukasa through the rain.  
  
"Let's get coffee." Tsukasa abruptly turned in at one of the ubiquitous coffeeshops that dotted this city.  
  
"Starbucks? Ugh." Soujiro made a face, he had more refined taste than that, and their drinks were way too sweet. But, Tsukasa had the sweet-tooth of a child, and would not be dissuaded. And anyway, it was better for him to drink this crap than the vodka that he craved.  
  
"May I help you sir?" The cute barista behind the counter seemed to coo as she took Tsukasa's order. Tsukasa's only response was a sullen scowl, and the growled out  
  
"Mocha Grande. With whipped cream."  
  
Behind him, Soujiro made a gagging face, and winked sympathetically at the barista. She blushed, but pretended not to notice him further as she completed Tsukasa's order.  
  
"May I help you?" Tsukasa had retreated with his ridiculous drink. Soujiro decided he'd best get something, otherwise, he'd be too damned tired to tag along behind his morose friend all night.  
  
"Surely," Soujiro grinned his patented lady-killer smile, as he leaned forward over the counter, "What would you recommend?"  
  
"Well, ah, I usually just stick to the expresso. . ." The barista's voice trailed off, her eyes widening, as she got a good look at Soujiro. ". . . Omigod!" She gasped, remarkably quietly, given her rising level of excitement, "You're Soujiro Nishikado, Aren't you? From The F4!" Soujiro's lips twitched up in a satisfied smile, as he nodded. Another fan. Maybe. . he wouldn't have to be stuck with Akira tonight after all.  
  
"Oh wow!" The barista gushed on, "I used to love your music! I had all your cds. . but then.. . "  
  
Soujiro's smile dimmed. Ah, it had been too much to ask for. She didn't look like their usual kind of groupie anyway. .  
  
"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, miss. . ."  
  
"Yuki." She blushed again, "Can I get your autograph. Please? I always used to dream of meeting you guys, and now, here you are. . Was that Tsukasa Doumyouji before? He looks so different now!"  
  
Soujiro was rapidly growing tired of the prattle. That, of course, was one of the major problems with fans. They always seemed to say the exact same things. A little originality would be nice for once. Even if this chick was only an ex-fan. Personally, he thought their music was much improved since the accident, even though it hurt to play. A pain not even their most ardent groupies could ever understand. Nevertheless, he obligingly signed the napkin hesitantly set before him, and smiled at the girl. . .Yuki. before ordering a double expresso shot.  
  
After paying, he turned around, half-expecting to hear Tsukasa grumbling at him for wasting their time flirting with idiot chicks.  
  
But, though Soujiro's keen gaze scanned the shop, Tsukasa was nowhere to be found.  
  
"Shit." Soujiro stumbled hastily for the door, leaving his drink behind, untouched. "Akira is going to kill me."  
  
Behind him, the oblivious barista stared dreamily into space, before turning to giddily inform her coworkers who it was who had just graced their shop with his-- utterly magnificent-- presence. It was true, then what Rolling Stone Magazine had said in last month's cover article. Soujiro Nishikado truly did exude an "animal sexuality, a pheromone laden melange of good looks and charm that no woman in their right mind could resist." Oh yeah, and his skills on the drums were unparalleled. Once he had been the lead singer of the boy band F4 instead, but two years ago, the group had undergone a sudden radical shift, both in musical style and in organization. Soujiro refused to sing the sweet love songs, and poppy tunes the group was known for, retreating to the shadows instead, to pound out his emotions in the primal beat of percussion. Tsukasa Doumyouji, the old drummer, a man no one had even known could sing, had stepped up instead, to fill the void. His voice, as angry, harsh and anguished as Soujiro's had once been mellifluous and sweet, now belted out lyrics suffused with bitterness and loss. Rui and Akira maintained their places as the bands bassist and guitarist, respectively. Well, at least until Rui had disappeared early last year.  
  
Other than these most basic of public details, the band was remarkably close-lipped about their private lives. They never said who wrote their heart-wrenchingly moody songs, or why. They never explained why they had turned from happy, hyper boy-band music to the extreme, grungy, metal-rock angst that they now espoused. There were rumors of a car accident, of drugs, of simple marketing schemes behind the shift. But the boys never said.  
  
And then there were the rumored idiosyncrasies -- such as why the guys had taken to staying in dull rooms in duller hotels. It was said that where they'd once each claimed their own suites, they now preferred to share two normal doubles, though for sure they could afford the suites now so much more than before. And, it was said that after Rui's disappearance, the three remaining members of the band began to share a single room. Except of course, for the replacement bassist, who not being part of the true F4, mostly kept to himself and skulked around his suite while the other three did. . . whatever it was they did in that small room of theirs. What would you do, if you were three of the country's most eligible (and hottest) young bachelors? There were rumors of homosexuality -- quickly dispelled by Akira's obvious, and well publicized involvement with an older actress, and by Soujiro's equally blatant enjoyment of the pleasures afforded by eager groupies. Still, no one was quite sure about Tsukasa, who remained, as ever, a stolid and sullen enigma.  
  
Nevertheless, the popularity of the F4 skyrocketed after their stylistic change. You could hear their heartfelt sincerity behind each anguished shriek wrenched from the guitar, in the agonized lyrics that poured from Tsukasa's throat. The only time Tsukasa ever showed emotions, it was said, was when he was on stage. Then he became truly human, while off stage, his sullen, angry mask never even so much as twitched out of place.  
  
Yuki, however, wasn't into rock music. She'd been truly disappointed when her favorite band underwent such a drastic paradigm shift. Why couldn't they stay upbeat and positive, when life was such an adventure? Often, she rather regretted not having gone to one of their early live concerts and seen Soujiro in action. Just one glimpse of his eyes. .. ah. . that was truly a sight to die for.. . And to think, she'd spoken to him just now. . . his hand had brushed hers as he'd signed his autograph. . . It really made her night.  
  
Yuki spent the rest of her shift remembering what she'd read about the man; and wondering if they were on tour now, how long they'd be in the city for, and what were the chances that he'd stop by the shop again, at a time when she was on duty? Would he even remember her the next day, if he came for more coffee?  
  
Meanwhile, Soujiro was engaged in more pressing concerns. Namely, where the fuck had Tsukasa gone off to?  
  
"Excuse me," he tried asking passersby if they'd seen a man of Tsukasa's description recently, but mostly all he got was a tightlipped frown, and the individual would clutch their umbrella more tightly and hurry on into the frigidly damp night. "Damn unfriendly northerners!" Soujiro cursed, and tried a different tactic, "Excuse me, where's the closest liquor store or bar?" This time, he distinctly got the impression that the area was just full of both establishments. "Shit." Soujiro sagged in defeat. He was never going to find Tsukasa like this. Sighing, he pulled out his cell phone and went to call Akira to inform him of this development. All he could do now was keep looking, and pray that Tsukasa turned up soon. With luck, Tsukasa'd drink himself into a stupor before he could do himself or anyone else any real damage.  
  
One could only hope, after all.  
  
To be continued. . . .  
  
~~~Next time: Tsukushi makes an appearance. Finally! Also, where is Rui? What accident is everyone talking about, and why would we even care? Stay tuned to find out!~~~ 


	3. Chapter 2 in which rui appears

Dr. Tsukushi Makino sighed and rested her head on the desk. Rainy nights in the ER were the worst. . . . It seemed that the rain brought out the craziness in everyone. Not only was the waiting room full of the usual gamut of sick kids, pregnant women, and minor accident victims, but the ER staff was also rushing around dealing with the influx of automobile-crash- casualties brought in on stretchers to the accompaniment of the siren's wailing. And that wasn't all; it seemed like every head-case off the streets was flocking in tonight, to escape the rain, if nothing else. But more likely, (and here Tsukushi sighed in exasperation at the thought) to try and score some Ativan.. . . And then there were the other crazies; the violent abusers, the abusees, the schizos, and the druggies. Sometimes the late-night parade of wounded seemed endless.  
  
She would know. She had to see them all.  
  
Sometimes it absolutely sucked being a junior resident at one of the city's busiest hospitals. She'd been so psyched when she first started her internship here in Psychiatry. But now, a year later, she wasn't so sure that she'd made the best career decision. She'd chosen to specialize in dual diagnosis; mostly meaning depressed people with an addiction to, well, anything. But, instead of working at a cozy rehab center or psych. hospital, she'd somehow wound up here, in an inner city hospital residency, working emergency psych. One of the most dangerous of the medical professions. What had she been thinking? Tsukushi no longer knew. Of course, it didn't help that as a junior resident, she got all the worst call shifts--like tonight.  
  
Sighing again, Tsukushi glanced at her watch. Midnight. She couldn't hide in the doctor's lounge anymore. It was time to go back out into the madhouse that was the Emergency Room. Slugging back the dregs of her long- since-cooled-off coffee, Tsukushi stood and wearily shrugged herself into some semblance of professionalism. It would have helped if she'd slept last night, she thought. But with the hectic surge of loonies that'd passed through the examining rooms last night, she'd just never got the chance. . ..  
  
"Hey, What you got for me?" Tsukushi surveyed the wall chart; as she tossed her question out to the PAs and nurses scurrying around the duty station.  
  
"Oh we've got a beauty for you tonight, doctor." The nurse flashed a sardonic grin at Tsukushi, "Examining room four. The police brought this guy in. Found him sitting on the sidewalk. Looked like he'd been in a fight. Smells like he's been drinking. Refuses to say a single damn word. Not one."  
  
"Great." Tsukushi groaned, "You don't need me. Just wait 'til he sobers up. He's probably too out of it now. Or get John to check him out, maybe the man got conked on the head."  
  
"Uh-uh." The nurse shook his head, "Neurologist says he's too busy with the trauma case to come down. This sucker's all yours." He held out the chart; not that there was much in it, besides a name, and the police description of how he was found.  
  
"Hey wait, if he's not talking; how'd you get an ID?"  
  
"Police took his wallet."  
  
"Oh." Tsukushi shook her head, and proceeded to the exam room. It was odd; it sounded more like a case of a guy who had too much to drink getting mugged than anything else -- but if that was the case, then why did he still have his wallet? Eh, whatever, she figured she'd find out soon enough, if she could get this Mr. Doumyouji talking. She couldn't abide uncooperative patients. They just made her angry.  
  
"Hi, Mr. Doumyouji?" Tsukushi put on a bright voice as she entered the small room. Her presumed patient was sitting in a chair, slouched over, with his elbows resting on his knees. He reeked of cheap liquor. Tsukushi quickly took in his appearance: wet and disheveled clothes, but relatively new, name brands-- so he wasn't some homeless guy off the street. He was tall, well built, with short, tightly curled hair. She couldn't see his face, bowed down as he was. His knuckles, half hidden by his arms, seemed to be swollen and bruised; sure sign of a fight-- not that she could have doubted that, what with the gash on his forehead slowly trickling blood down his cheek. He didn't even seem to notice this inconvenience. Behind him stood one weary police officer.  
  
The patient remained silent, not even bothering to look up at the sound of her voice. The cop spoke instead. "Hey, doc. Can I go now? I've got more important things to do than shepherd this guy around all night."  
  
Tsukushi looked around, "Just a moment, let me call the nurse in to stitch him up-- and then I need to hear how you found him." Really though, she just didn't want to be left alone with a potentially violent patient -- that was rule number one of her profession, you never ever let yourself alone with an unknown patient, especially one who is bigger, stronger, and likely more insane that you are. She stuck her head briefly out the door, telling her request to a passing medical student, then got the story from the cop on how this Mr. Doumyouji had been found. . . Just as he was done, the nurse showed up, and Tsukushi let the cop go back to his real duties. She, meanwhile, still had to deal with an uncooperative patient. She let out a silent sigh, and turned back to him.  
  
"Let's try this again, shall we?" The forced brightness was back in her voice, as she made herself as non-threatening as possible, "I'm Dr. Makino, and this is Nurse Smith. She's going to stitch up that nasty cut on your forehead, while we talk. Now, do you think you can tell me what happened to you?" At first, she was willing to believe that he was too much in a daze from either the alcohol saturating his system, or from the head wound, but when the nurse turned the unresisting patient towards the light, so she could swab out the wound properly, Tsukushi could swear she saw a clear light of comprehension in his eyes. He was just playing dumb. What a jerk. . . She was far too tired for this sort of shit.  
  
"Look, We're going to have to keep you here for observation. For all I know, you may have a concussion, and if you don't talk to me, I'm not willing to say that you're competent enough to be allowed back on the streets. So, Let's talk. Who did this to you?"  
  
Well, she got some reaction at least. The man turned her way and glared. Just glared at her; the sort of murderous glare that states, as plain as day, "Don't mess with me, bitch, or you're going to pay."  
  
Tsukushi felt a shiver run down her spine, and was infinitely grateful for the presence of the nurse in the room with her. But she refused to let her discomfort show, "Right then." She spoke with some asperity, "Patient is uncooperative, Mental status unknown, Suspect intoxication. Unknown if patient is a danger to self or others. Recommend admission for overnight observation. That's what I'm putting down. Now, do you have family or friends you wish to contact? Anyone who can come and pick you up? Someone who might worry that you're gone?"  
  
Tsukasa just continued to glare. Didn't this uptight little doctor know who he was? What kind of idiots were these that led such sheltered lives that they'd never heard of the F4, or of him, the great Tsukasa Doumyouji? Why, both their last two albums gad gone platinum almost overnight! And here this doctor bitch was, talking down to him, patronizing him, like he was some common bum! What gave her the right? Tsukasa let his eyes slide coldly over the doctor standing before him. She was a short woman, her hair pulled back in a severe bun, her slight body hidden in equally severe clothes, and by the shapeless white coat that so many doctors wore like some form of security blanket. She looked about as harmless as a kitten, despite the icy cold snap in her voice. A shrink with a temper; Tsukasa almost laughed, but his head hurt too much.  
  
This wasn't the first time he'd ended up in an ER being poked by medical students, and questioned by shrinks, 'What were you thinking. Don't you know alcohol can kill?' blah blah blah. Like he gave a fuck. And here was just another do-gooder, out to tell him to stop drinking, maybe get counseling for his violent tendencies. . . Yeah, what the fuck ever. They didn't know what he'd been through. And, despite their lies, they didn't really care. They'd just toss out the usual diagnosis --depression -- throw him some pills, and send him on his way. He should know. He'd been through it all before.  
  
Drugs were shit. Nothing worked like the vodka, nothing made the pain go away, and sometimes, he didn't want it to go. After all, the pain was what reminded him that it all was real, that this was life. Even the fight that had landed him here, with the knife wielding punk who thought a drunk guy walking by himself was an easy target; that was real, that was his life. It had been easy to kick that little twerp's ass, to send him scurrying for the safety of some back alley, but Tsukasa was wounded, taken by surprise by the knife across the face, and had slumped down in the rain, exhausted, unheeding of the puddle seeping into his jeans. .. And that was how the police had eventually found him. .  
  
So now here he was, facing off with another know-it-all doctor. What else was he going to do but glare? This chick had no right to know what was going in his skull, no right to know what he'd been through. And no way in hell was he going to tell her. Doctors! Bah! He sneered silently; they liked to talk and talk, they'd steal your soul if you let them, but never give themselves in return. Was it any wonder he chose to remain silent? Akira would find him eventually; he always did. Probably even in time for the show tomorrow night. So what did it matter if he chose now to be as uncooperative as humanly possible?  
  
Tsukushi remained staring at her patient a few seconds more, wondering what the hell was going on behind hose icily evaluating eyes. "Yeah, this one's trouble, all right." She thought silently, before speaking aloud, "OK, Mr. Doumyouji, have it your way." She turned to mumble a few orders to the harried nurse, before her attention was caught by a small commotion in the hall beyond.  
  
A body was being brought in on a stretcher. As it passed, Tsukushi could just make out a pale flash of sallow skin; grimily decrepit clothing, hardly warm enough for the freezing rain outside; and a glimpse of tousled matted hair topping as pale face half-hidden beneath an oxygen mask.  
  
"Oh god, not again," Tsukushi sighed, bowing her head in defeat, and hurrying after the paramedics, "Is he still breathing? Did you give him the Narcan already?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, he's stable." The paramedics brushed off her concern, as if this were something that happened all the time  
  
"One of these days we're going to be too late, you know." The other medic spoke, "Dr. Makino, didn't you send him off to rehab just last week?"  
  
"I did," Tsukushi sighed, "But he always runs away."  
  
"Well," the first medic shrugged, "Mr. Hanazawa will be ok this time, probably. But this is his sixth OD in four months. You know he's not got much time left at the rate he's going."  
  
All the young doctor could do was stare hopelessly down at the semi- comatose man on the stretcher. Her first real solo case, and one of her worst failures thus far, Rui Hanazawa was a man who refused all help, rebuffed all care, and was slowly but surely killing himself. His arms were a mess of scars-- old track marks and new, ulcerated abscesses, and used up veins-- the telltale marks of a die-hard heroin junkie. And there was nothing she could do to save him. Nothing she hadn't already tried.  
  
To be continued. . .  
  
~~~ I apologize most humbly for the Many huge and glaring errors in my depictions of the medical profession, and especially in that of Emergency medicine and Psychiatry. I have spent almost zero time in the ER, and I'm not a psychiatrist, nor ever will be. I got the drugs right, that's all I'll claim.~~~ 


	4. chapter 3 in which tsukasa yells

"I found him!" Tsukasa burst excitedly through the door of his hotel room.  
  
"Where the fuck have you been?"  
  
"Who're we buying off this time?" Akira and Soujiro interrupted simultaneously. They'd given up the search for Tsukasa several hours before, and had returned cold, wet, and weary to their room to await a call from the police or from the hospital telling them to come claim their drunken friend. No call had come, and they'd settled in to worry about what sort of trouble Tsukasa could have gotten himself into this time. They certainly hadn't expected him to return on his own two feet, and in such exuberantly high spirits at that. Akira ignored the excitement, presuming that Tsukasa was just drunk, as usual. Or delusional. Instead, he focused on the neatly stitched wound on Tsukasa's forehead.  
  
"Dude, who did that to you?"  
  
"And what did you do to him?" Soujiro fretted; as the fiscally responsible one of the group, he had to make sure they could afford bail, or to defend against a potential lawsuit.  
  
"Shut up and listen!" Tsukasa growled furiously.  
  
"Listen to what?" Soujiro sneered in dismissal, "You dumped me to go out drinking! Admit it! I can smell you from here! And by the looks of it, you got in another fight. How many fucking times is this going to happen? Fuck you and your bullshit! I swear, What excuse do you have this time? Did someone look at you funny? Maybe they asked for your autograph? Is that it?" He was practically yelling now, but as he paused for air, he seemed to recollect himself, and turned away to bury his head under a pillow. Softly, his muffled voice could be heard, "I'm just so sick of this. We're sick. . . I've been thinking of quitting. . . maybe going home. . ."  
  
Akira glared at Tsukasa before settling himself down beside Soujiro and patting Soujiro on the back. They all knew he wouldn't be welcome home; not since he'd ditched his eminently respectable family, and their wishes years ago to pursue his dreams of becoming a musician.  
  
Tsukasa stood silently in the doorway a few moments more, then slowly collapsed on his bed. "I'm serious. Akira, make him listen. I think I found Rui!"  
  
Akira turned disbelieving eyes toward his friend. Maybe he should listen-- he hadn't heard Tsukasa sound this hopeful in months. . . or, maybe it had been years. "Are you sure?" he said at last. By the sudden tenseness in Soujiro's spine, Akira could tell that he too, was listening intently, though he refused to lift his head from the bed.  
  
". .. Well. . . No. . ." Tsukasa admitted after a long pause.  
  
"Shit." That was Soujiro's muffled exclamation of disgust. Akira merely looked resignedly disappointed.  
  
". .. But Who else could it be!?" Tsukasa rushed to fill the depressed silence, "Look, I was in the ER, and they brought in a guy on a stretcher. They called him Mr. Hanazawa. I could hear a bit of their conversation. It sounded like him. Heroin, overdose. . . Guys! Listen, how many other Hanazawa junkies can there be? It has to be him."  
  
"It's a common name." Soujiro refused to let Tsukasa get their hopes up.  
  
"Did you see him?" Akira asked, more practically, needing more proof before he was willing to let himself believe.  
  
"No." Tsukasa frowned. "I was getting this sewn up at the time." he pointed at his laceration. "What kind of fucking city is it where you can't walk down the street before midnight even, without getting mugged? Goddamnit."  
  
"Ugh. You didn't find him." Soujiro jerked his head up to glare at Tsukasa. "You're just making excuses for sneaking off like that! Do you think your little story is going to make anything better? Well you're wrong! You're still a flaming alcoholic! When the fuck are you going to start rehab like you promised? There is no Rui! He's probably dead by now, too. And you know it! So don't waste my time with these lies! I don't want to hear it." His face crumpled again, as he lapsed into silence.  
  
"I did too!" Tsukasa fumed, "What the hell do you know/! You weren't there! You think you know everything, don't you? Like you're perfect? So what if I drink! It's better than fucking every female that bats their eyes at me! You know why I left you this evening? You were flirting with that stupid chicky at Starbucks! I wanted coffee and silence! Not to have to listen to your innuendoes. . .Oh I know, if you didn't think you abso-fucking-lutely had to follow me everywhere like a good little lapdog, you'd have been getting in her pants in no time! You make me sick with your platitudes and holier-than thou attitude! You have no right to judge me! No right to say I didn't see him! It was Rui and I'll prove it to you!"  
  
"Guys! Calm down!" Akira leapt to intervene before the argument could erupt any further. "We've been over this before! It's too late to fight. Can we just let it drop? Please? Until the morning?"  
  
"I suppose." Was Soujiro's reluctant reply.  
  
"Tsukasa?" Akira turned inquiring eyes towards his other friend, "Can we discuss it in the AM?"  
  
"You don't believe me either." Tsukasa stated flatly.  
  
Akira couldn't deny it.  
  
"Then I'll show you." Tsukasa growled, "I have the name of one of the doctors. Tomorrow we'll go pay her a visit."  
  
"In the morning, then." Akira agreed. What could it hurt to humor Tsukasa just this little bit? And of course, he'd be there when the bubble burst: when they found that this was yet another dead end, when Tsukasa's fragile hope crashed and burned, plunging him ever deeper into this depression from which he refused to emerge.  
  
With a few more mutterings and growlings, the three men settled in for the night. Eventually, one of them even managed to sleep for a few hours, lulled by the steady patter of rain on their window into uneasy slumber.  
  
------------  
  
The next morning dawned chill and overcast. But at least it wasn't raining.  
  
"OK, where are we going?" Akira asked, shrugging on his expensive leather jacket.  
  
"City hospital."  
  
"I need caffeine." Soujiro moaned. "Also food."  
  
"Not now." Tsukasa fumed, "What is wrong with you. Don't you want to find him?"  
  
Soujiro shrugged. Of course he did, he just didn't believe that Tsukasa had. But there was no arguing with the man when he was in one of his domineering moods, so Soujiro and Akira just followed him into a waiting taxi. . .  
  
--------------  
  
"Excuse me," Akira grinned brilliantly at an elderly receptionist, "Could you tell me if there's a patient here by the name of Hanazawa?"  
  
Even this woman was not too old to be swayed by Akira's charms, and her usually sour expression slowly slid into a lopsided smile as she hastened to comply with his request for information. Her smile brightened a bit, as she looked up, "Room 413. Are you family? He has a number of outstanding medical bills. . . "  
  
"Friends." Akira nodded, "Soujiro, would you give Ms. . . " (he peered at her nametag), ". . . Anderson, our billing information?"  
  
Soujiro hid a grimace. They didn't even know if this was the right person, and already Akira was willing to spend god only knows how much on him? Well. . . He supposed it beat paying Tsukasa's bail, and so he resignedly fished out his wallet, while Akira and Tsukasa proceeded down the hall to the indicated room.  
  
A few seconds later, Tsukasa could be heard cursing explosively -- his trained voice easily carried down the long corridors, causing shocked nurses and some of the more mobile patients on the ward to stick their heads out to see what all the commotion was.  
  
Soujiro cringed, and shrugged apologetically at the receptionist, as Tsukasa's voice continued to rant.  
  
"Where the fuck is he?! I can't believe we were so close. .. And he's gone?! Who in their right minds would release him back onto the streets in his condition?!"  
  
"Tsukasa! calm down!" Akira spoke much more quietly. "Maybe they took him for some tests. . .I'll go ask the attendant. . .Maybe it's not even our Rui! It could be any Hanazawa! We never even asked about the first name. . ."  
  
"It has to be him! Who else could it be?" Tsukasa was almost in tears, as he surveyed the empty room. It had to be Rui. It simply had to be. . .  
  
To be continued. . .  
  
~~Next time! What's the big secret? Why is everyone so depressed? Where has Rui buggered off to this time? And What about Tsukushi? Stay tuned to find out the answers to all of these questions, and more!  
  
Oh yeh, to my reviewers:  
  
Yan-- No no, I *was* a medical student (but I'm punting the clinical shit for a few years-- hence, I can go off ranting about diseases and drugs, etc for hours, but I know jackshit about what its actually like on the wards.)  
  
Fresh8 -- I'm actually surprised more people don't see Rui as a druggie. Distant, lethargic, abrupt mood swings. .. it's gotta be drugs and/or mental illness. . . And as for Tsukushi being a doctor instead of a dango girl-- well, they're workaholics too. As a resident, until recently she might have had to work up to 80 hrs a week, for total crap wages. (now, it could be 60, and only 36 hrs without sleep -- yay legislation) but still, she's working her ass off.. and her family background is probably still poor; so now she's likely struggling now to pay off a huge tuition debt. I'm totally being pedantic here, so i'll shut up.  
  
Ruth -- maybe I should change title to "wilting flowers?" :) That'd be amusing. . . 


	5. chapter 4 in which the past is revealed

"What is going on here?" Tsukushi stormed down the long hallways past the nurse's station. She had gotten maybe four hours of sleep last night, in one of the call rooms, before waking up at six to do her morning rounds. After that, she had a few outpatients to see in her office. If all went well, she'd be able to slip home around four or five to catch up on some well-deserved sleep. The last thing she needed was to have her schedule interrupted by some cursing loony ranting in the ward.  
  
Furiously, the diminutive doctor rounded on the source of the disturbance. Imagine her surprise when the maniac turned out to be none other than her troublesome patient from last night-- the silent drunk who had disappeared while her back was turned.  
  
"So the mute does speak. What are you doing here?" She snapped. Before she could continue, Tsukasa's strident voice interrupted her,  
  
"Where did you take him? I need to see Rui now!"  
  
Tsukushi drew what she assumed was the logical conclusion, "What are you? His pusher? You come here to sell him more of that shit? Or maybe just to collect on a debt? Have you no shame? Get Out!" It was only after she spoke, that she realized the truth in Tsukasa's words. Rui was gone: vanished from his bed like he'd never even been there. He'd skipped out again, though how he could even walk in the condition he was in, much less escape the hospital, was a mystery to her.  
  
"Who the hell do you think you are? Do you know how long I've been looking for him?" Tsukasa's face was beet red, as he ranted at the equally pissed off doctor staring him down.  
  
Tsukushi's face darkened, and this time, when she spoke, her voice was icily calm, "Get out. Before I call security. You have no business in this hospital." Though her voice was calm, her body quivered with rage; the righteous fury of a wildcat protecting its cubs, or of a devoted physician trying to shield her wards from further avoidable hurts. Even Tsukasa could hear the unyielding steel in her tone, and though he was not afraid of any pansy-ass security guards, something in her expression caused him to back down from this fight. For perhaps the first time in years, Tsukasa had lost a fight without even incurring any exchange of blows.  
  
Tsukasa's jaw snapped shut; he blinked at the woman before him. How long had it been since someone besides Soujiro or Akira dared yell at him; since his will was challenged? He hadn't thought doctors were allowed to lose their tempers in public, much less when that doctor was a shrink. But here he was, and here she was. Her fiery eyes stared him down; willing him to obey her, and leave, before he did any more damage, caused any more trouble in the normally hushed halls of this place. And, surprisingly, Tsukasa found himself obeying her command, stalking out the open door like his pride hadn't just been damaged.  
  
Akira and Soujiro, of course, had long since vanished. Intelligently, they'd suspected that it would do none of them any good for them to be known associates of Tsukasa's.  
  
It took only a few minutes for the three men to reconvene out in the main lobby of the building.  
  
"OK." Akira set forth the game plan, "So, I have to admit, it sounds like Rui. We need to confirm this. Tsukasa's method didn't work. So let's try mine."  
  
"And that would be?" Tsukasa raised a sullenly inquiring eyebrow. He was still brooding over his short-lived fight with that doctor.  
  
"Charm." Akira grinned, and brandished an appointment card. "Amazing how secretaries are willing to fit in an unscheduled patient when you ask them nicely."  
  
"And when you're willing to spread the wealth around." Soujiro grumbled, fingering his wallet.  
  
"Yeah well, she'd've helped me anyway, even if I hadn't slipped her the fifty." Akira tossed his long hair back, smugly. "She thought I was sweet."  
  
"She was old enough to be your grandmother." Soujiro taunted, "All wrinkly, and baggy-eyed."  
  
"Oh shut up!" Tsukasa yelled sharply, "When is this appointment!? How much time are we going to waste standing around here?"  
  
"Let me see. .. " Akira deliberately drew out his answer, antagonizing Tsukasa. ". . . What time is it now? Ten? Oh, well then. . . It's in half an hour."  
  
"Bah. And you think she'll talk to you? Tell you where Rui is?" Tsukasa was already beginning to twitch impatiently.  
  
"And when has a woman ever been able to resist my charms?" Akira raised an insouciant eyebrow, before setting off to go wait for his appointment with the fiery shrink.  
  
-----  
  
"Hello, Mr. Mimasaka?" Tsukushi wearily regarded the handsome man standing in her office, "Why don't you have a seat? . . . You know, I don't usually see new outpatients on such short notice, but my secretary told me it was urgent? So why don't you tell me what's bothering you?"  
  
Akira pulled up a chair, and smiled sheepishly at the tired-looking woman across from him. 'God,' he thought to himself, 'no wonder she's in a bad mood.' For Tsukushi's desk was covered in paperwork, and by the look of her, she'd not got enough sleep in weeks. Here was a woman who might be pretty, if she ever bothered to take the time to do her hair nicely, and put on some attractive clothes, instead of the drearily professional skirt and blouse she now wore-- both of which had something of the look of having been slept in about them. Ah, the life of a medical professional. Akira didn't envy her career at all.  
  
"Well you see, doctor," He began, "I'm not really here about me. . ."  
  
'Oh great,' was the first thing that passed through Tsukushi's mind, 'He's not going to admit he has a problem, but it's going to be some hypothetical friend of his. Goddamnit. I don't have the energy for this.' But she just nodded and encouraged him to continue.  
  
"You see, I'm looking for a friend of mine who disappeared last year, And I was told you might have heard of him. . . Rui Hanazawa?"  
  
Bingo. The look of recognition that flashed across Dr Makino's face was unmistakable, though she quickly hid it behind her mask of professionalism.  
  
"Can you tell me, have you seen him?" Akira pressed on. "He's a man in need of serious help.  
  
Tsukushi reluctantly nodded, though she felt her lip pressing together in a severe line. So this guy had used false pretenses to get into her office. . . And, coming so closely on the heels of this morning's earlier encounter, she was minded to be a bit suspicious. Still, she could tell the truth, and it wouldn't change a thing. "Rui Hanazawa, is, on occasion, a patient of mine."  
  
Akira couldn't control himself. In his sudden enthusiasm, he had to make sure that this was the one, "Tall, thin guy, light brown hair, grey eyes, good-looking?" Well, he'd been attractive once, at any rate, "How is he doing? Is he all right? Is he here?"  
  
The sudden drop of the charmer's airs for this overwhelming intensity immediately put Tsukushi even more on guard. There was something going on here, and it was more than just a man tracking down a log-lost friend. But she didn't have a clue what it might be, or what the connection between this Mr. Mimasaka and that Mr. Doumyouji guy from last night might be. If in fact there even was one, and it wasn't just a product of her overactive imagination. When she replied again, her voice was wary, "Mr. Hanazawa was admitted last night. This morning, his room was found empty. That is all I can tell you. His other information is confidential."  
  
"Please, doctor." Now Akira was pleading, "I need to find him." He couldn't return to Tsukasa with a tale of failure. "Can you give me an address? Anything? Please, I know he's got a drug problem. He needs to be helped. We can bring him back, if you just tell me where he lives."  
  
"I'm sorry. But that information is confidential." Tsukushi repeated. And anyway, it wasn't like Rui had a fixed address. "Now, If you'll excuse me, I've people waiting -- people who actually need my help." She stood and offered Akira her hand. He slowly shook it, and left, casting one final remonstrative glance over his shoulder as he headed for the door.  
  
Tsukushi was left feeling guilty, as if she had done something wrong. But really, all she had done was her job.  
  
-------  
  
"You failed." It wasn't a question. Even Tsukasa could read the defeat in Akira's posture.  
  
Akira merely nodded. Soujiro then blinked and smoothed his hair back, as he prepared for his turn in the attack queue.  
  
"What makes you think you can succeed where Akira failed?" Tsukasa was in no mood for playboy games. At this moment, he was more inclined to kidnap the recalcitrant doctor and beat Rui's location out of her.  
  
"Patience." Was all Soujiro would say, as he strode off.  
  
--------  
  
Tsukushi sighed, stood up, and stretched. Hard to believe it was only noon. Already the day felt like it would never end.  
  
"I'm going out for lunch!" she called as she headed for the stairs, "Anyone want to join me?" But no one did. She wasn't exactly the world's most popular resident here. One of the few people in her program who hadn't come from a long family tradition of medical professionals, she'd worked hard to get into this prestigious residency, worked hard to become the woman that she was. Her parents had thought she went to medical school only to snag a doctor-husband who could do the work to let her live in luxury. They'd never expected her to be the career slave; sacrificing friends, free time. and love in the pursuit of her goals. She'd never even once had a boyfriend in all the years of her training -- merely a few sad, failed flings with guys she was totally incompatible with. She hardly even had friends; she felt herself too different from the others, too isolated by some form of invisible barrier to ever mingle comfortably with her so-called peers. And so, she ate alone, every day.  
  
Today, she needed to escape the hospital; and while it was still grey and dreary outside, at least it wasn't raining; and the maples in a nearby park were in their full autumn splendor. So, without further ado, she hastened there, after a quick stop at the hospital café for a sandwich and some fresh coffee.  
  
A short while later, Tsukushi took a seat on a vacant park bench. She could almost have sworn she felt someone following her from the hospital. But she shrugged it off as a bad case of lack of sleep combined with the hectic and odd events of the morning.  
  
Now, normally in this city, it was rare for two strangers to share a park bench-- somehow, the cool northern climes seemed to inflate one's personal space; making it almost taboo for someone to sit in the same spot. . . so Tsukushi's surprise can easily be imagined when she saw, out of the corner of her eye, someone settling down on the bench next to her. .. She might even have been nervous, except that it was hard to fear anything in the light of day; not after some of the horrible things she'd seen over the course of her education and training. But still, she couldn't help but do a double-take, as the man actually addressed her. It was obvious that he wasn't from around here.  
  
"Hey, lovely day isn't it?"  
  
Tsukushi turned to regard the speaker. He was a startlingly good looking guy, about her age, with straight black hair that threatened to fall in his sparkling eyes at any minute. He was grinning at her, a friendly, seductive grin promising oh-so-many sinful delights. Tsukushi wasn't taken in for a second. She was a professional. She could see beyond that handsome smile, to the darkness within. But he wasn't her patient, it wasn't her place to say anything, so she merely nodded noncommittally. "If you like it cold and damp." She returned her attention to her sandwich, but the man wouldn't let her be.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't introduce myself properly, did I?" Soujiro slapped his forehead in mock dismay, "Hi, I'm Soujiro Nishikado!" He was only slightly disappointed when the woman on the bench next to him didn't seem to recognize the name. Couldn't expect everyone to have heard f him after all, but still. . . it was a shame.  
  
"Tsukushi." Suspiciously, Tsukushi shook the proffered hand. There was definitely something weird about good-looking guys starting up conversations with her in the park. Usually she was only propositioned by the local winos. So, obviously this man was up to something. And, suddenly, Tsukushi found she wasn't in the mood for games. She found herself saying the first thing that came to mind, "Look, What do you want? You followed me from the hospital, didn't you? Admit it, I thought I saw someone. What is it you want? Do you think I carry prescription meds on me?" (She'd had that problem before -- been accosted by scum seeking Oxycontin, or Benzos.) "I'm sorry, but I don't." (She wasn't sorry in the slightest), "You think I can't tell you want something? You think someone like me ever gets accosted by a good-looking guy for anything but That? I know better. Just go away." Ok, she had to admit, she got a little carried away there, but she was tired and frustrated, and it was good to let it all overflow; to take her wrath out on this hapless stranger.  
  
"Whoa, hey there!" Soujiro waved his hands in surrender, "It's not like that! Sure I followed you. How else was I supposed to get a chance to talk to you!" He winced as Tsukushi recoiled in sudden fear as if he really were a deranged stalker, "No, no! I didn't mean it like that!" He rushed on, "I just want to show you something! Please, don't go. . . Just five minutes, of your time is all I ask." Tsukushi had been in the act of pulling herself to her feet when something in his voice caught her attention. Reluctantly, she sat back down and gave the man sitting beside her a long measuring stare.  
  
"Five minutes." She acquiesced at last.  
  
Soujiro took a deep breath, nodded, and reached for his wallet. Carefully, almost reverently, he pulled out a folded, worn, and tattered photograph. Tsukushi gasped sharply as she recognized four of the figures in the photo.  
  
"This was taken over three years ago." Soujiro began, and this time, there was no hint of coyness or flirtation in his voice. "Well, You know Rui." He pointed to the left-most figure, "He looked a lot better then, didn't he? He hadn't gotten hooked on heroin yet. .. that wouldn't happen for another fifteen months or so. . . And next to him, the girl his arm's around -- that's Shizuka. She was his fiancee." Tsukushi looked up sharply at the 'Was,' but the look in Soujiro's eyes stifled whatever it was she was about to say, "And that's Tsukasa -- I believe you two have met?" Soujiro almost smiled at the half-snarl that unconsciously crossed Tsukushi's face, "He wasn't always that way. He used to be happy." And indeed, the Tsukasa in the picture was smiling-- his arms were wrapped around an attractively tom- boyish girl, and a second tall girl was leaning on his shoulder in an almost domineering fashion. "And those are his girlfriend Shigeru, and his sister Tsubaki." Soujiro's finger moved on, "You've also met Akira. And that's Sakurako-- she's not a girlfriend. She was just a groupie, one of Shigeru's friends."  
  
"A groupie?" Tsukushi just had to interrupt this odd narrative. His listing left more questions in her mind with each introduction.  
  
"Yeah." Soujiro nodded, "You've never heard of the F4?"  
  
"No. . ." Tsukushi wrinkled her forehead in thought, "Oh. . .wait. . . I think I saw a blurb in Time a while ago? Is it like a band?"  
  
"Yeah. . ." Soujiro sighed. How could someone be so ignorant of pop culture in this day ad age? "It's a band. Or rather, We're the band; Tsukasa, Rui, Akira, and I. .. or at least until Rui left. . . But he'll always be in the F4. No matter what." The words were surprisingly fierce, and Tsukushi was a bit taken aback. Soujiro blinked, remembering himself, "Oh, sorry. So anyway. . Sakurako was a groupie; you know-- used to follow us around. She had a thing for Tsukasa, but you know how groupies are. . . . " Tsukushi looked disapprovingly at him, so he moved on hastily, though he was coming to the part he hated most, "Yeah. . . So. . . Obviously, this is me, and this," here Soujiro slowly traced the image of the cute girl in his arms, "was Sara; my fiancee." He stared at the photograph sadly, while Tsukushi regarded at him, watching his handsome face crumple desolately. Hesitantly, as if unsure of the professionalism of her actions, she reached out to pat him on the back.  
  
"What happened. . ." She asked, after a few moments of silence.  
  
"They died." Soujiro pulled himself back together, grateful for the comfort of the doctor's arm around his back. "Two years ago. Last night was the anniversary of their death."  
  
"Who?" The look in Soujiro's eye made Tsukushi almost wish she hadn't asked.  
  
Silently, he pointed at the picture, indicating each of the girls in turn, "We were in Philadelphia at the time. Shigeru and Sarah, and of course, Sakurako, were with us on tour. But, Tsubaki and Shizuka had gotten the week off, and flew down to visit. . . .It's my fault," He admitted after another pause, "I had called Shizuka that week-- told her that Rui was depressed again. He always did get these moods-- and only she could make him smile. It was no good, you understand, letting him project such gloom-- we were a happy-go-lucky boy band. So I called Shizuka. If I'd have known, I never would have picked up that phone."  
  
"It's not your fault." Tsukushi insisted; the irrationality of human grief- guilt complexes never ceased to amaze her.  
  
"What ever you say, doc." Soujiro snorted in disbelief. "Anyway. Shizuka insisted that Tsubaki come along on the off chance that Tsukasa needed an ass-kicking. He often did. And she was the only one that could keep him in- line." Tsukushi could tell from the way he talked about it, that Tsukasa also blamed Soujiro for these deaths. "So, you have to understand; Tsubaki is-- was -- a force of nature, she swept everything along in her wake. What started out as a mercy visit to Rui became a girl's night out. The five of them took off, while we were lounging backstage, recovering from a show. It was raining that night, freezing rain. The roads were slick, or so they told us. Tsubaki was a good driver. But crazy. She should never have been driving at such speeds in that weather. They went out on the highway. . I don't know where she thought she was going. . . They were never sure whose car jumped the barrier first. Whose fault it was. . .but I saw the pictures the next day; it was a ten, fifteen car pileup. And they. . they were at the bottom. I hope they never saw what hit them." Soujiro looked away again, his voice husky with sorrow,  
  
"They were our family. The only friends we had outside of each other. We miss them. It hasn't been the same. It can never be the same. Rui. . . well, he started drinking, but, it wasn't enough for him; there wasn't enough oblivion in the bottle to make him forget. We didn't notice at first what he was doing. . . some family we were; all too caught up in ourselves to see him -- to see that he was hurting worst of all. We thought he was just grieving in his own way. . . By the time Akira noticed the track marks, it was too late. He vanished the next week." Soujiro paused again, unwilling to admit the depths to which he and Tsukasa had sunk, "I hate what we've become, without them. . . without him. We need him back. Can't you see? We can't heal until we're together. We're a family. He needs us, and we need him. . ." He'd run out of words to say, so he just gazed at Tsukushi; willing her to believe, willing her to help him.  
  
Tsukushi eyed him for a long time, trying to gauge the depth of his sincerity, wondering if human ethics should win out over medical ethics, and above all, trying to fight the spell of melancholy he seemed to have cast over her.  
  
At long last, she sighed, "I shouldn't do this. . . but. . .I'll help you find him. That's all I can do. He won't stay in the hospital, won't stay in the shelters. So I can't promise you anything, if he doesn't want to be found, he won't be."  
  
"Just try. That's all I ask." Soujiro breathed, allowing himself to feel a little of the spark of hope that had so recently kindled in Tsukasa.  
  
"Right." Tsukushi took a deep breath, "I can't believe I'm doing this. I must be more sleep deprived than I thought. You and your friends come meet me at my office around five pm. I believe you know where it is?" Soujiro flashed an apologetic grin,  
  
"You can't blame Akira for trying."  
  
Tsukushi lifted a skeptical eyebrow  
  
"Err, yeah. Tsukasa. Sorry about that. Tact was never his strong point" Soujiro sighed, "Thank you for helping us, doctor. We are in your debt." Carefully, he replaced his precious photograph in his wallet, and stood, reassembling his face into that of the seductive charmer once more, "We'll pick you up for your date at five." Even as he left the stunned doctor sitting in the park, Soujiro's brain was already spinning, trying to figure out how to cancel or delay tonight's show without raising suspicion as to what was really going on.  
  
-To be continued. . . 


	6. chapter 5 in which rui is found

Tsukushi yawned and looked at her watch again. Almost five. Almost time to meet Mr. Nishikado and his friends. Not for the first time, Tsukushi wondered what it was she thought she was doing. She was breaking all the rules on confidentiality and the sacred trust of the doctor-patient relationship. She was helping some guys whom she hardly knew, and at least one of which was provably violent and probably not entirely sane. She had her doubts about the other two as well. Why? Why was she helping them? Did she really believe that depressing story Mr. Nishikado had told her? She wasn't sure yet, but it would certainly help explain some things. . .  
  
She just wished she knew whether or not she was doing the right thing.  
  
And, she wondered: if they found Mr. Hanazawa, what would his friends say when they saw the level he'd sunk to? Would they stick by him, or abandon him like all the social workers had already done?  
  
Well, she shrugged fatalistically, she'd soon find out.  
  
Soon enough, there came a light knocking at the open office door, followed by the entrance of the three men she'd met earlier that day.  
  
"Hey," Soujiro grinned at the exhausted-looking doctor, "Ready for our little 'date'? I tried to ditch these two jokers, but they insisted on coming along."  
  
Tsukushi looked blankly up at the men, How could he sound so cheerful? It wasn't like this was a game or something. This was their friend's life they were trying to rescue. She shrugged mentally. Defense mechanisms were amazing things. And speaking of which. .. . Tsukushi peered at Mr. Doumyouji, who slouched in the doorway, glowering like he had that morning. Now there was a man who needed to lighten up a little. She was tempted to tell him so, but perhaps now was not the best time. The third member of the group, Akira Mimasaka, stood slightly behind Soujiro, and was casually leaning his elbow on the other man's shoulder. Seeing them together, Tsukushi couldn't help but wonder if the two men were a couple. But somehow, she doubted it, especially considering the story Soujiro had told her.  
  
"So how did he do it?" Akira inquired. "He won't tell us."  
  
"Do what?"  
  
"Get you to help us. He doesn't have my charm, or Tsukasa's forcefulness, so how did 'Jiro do it?"  
  
"He probably offered to sleep with her." Tsukasa growled from the door.  
  
"Oh shut up." Soujiro snapped, "Stop acting like you know everything."  
  
Tsukushi merely glared, mentally debating, once more, the wisdom of association with these men. But it was too late to back out now, and so she merely ignored the quibbling behind her, as she led the way out to the street to where her car was parked.  
  
"Ugh. We're taking this piece of shit?" Tsukasa sneered, eyeing Tsukushi's battered old Volvo with some distaste.  
  
"Trust me." Tsukushi sighed," Where we're going, this is the only vehicle that isn't likely to get stolen. And even that's not a safe bet. Get in."  
  
It was a very quiet foursome that drove into the slums of the city. The three rich musicians tended to avoid such decrepit and seedy neighborhoods, and now their eyes hungrily drank in the whole scene. They couldn't imagine what it might be like to live here, or what sort of hell Rui's daily existence must be, in a place so bleak and joyless. At last, with a savage jerk of the wheel, Tsukushi pulled up near a dilapidated brick building.  
  
"Wait here." She instructed, climbing out of the car.  
  
"Wait. Where are you going?"  
  
"Shouldn't someone come with you?" The boys interrupted hastily.  
  
"This," Tsukushi pointed, "Is one of the local soup kitchens. I volunteer here once a week. I'm going to go in and ask some questions. People might help me, because they know me. They certainly won't tell me anything if they see you. So stay put."  
  
"They better help, or I'll kill them." Tsukasa muttered low under his breath.  
  
"Patience," Akira counseled, laying a soothing hand on Tsukasa's arm.  
  
"Show some gratitude," Soujiro had less patience for Tsukasa's crap.  
  
"Gratitude, my ass. I'll be happy when we've found him, not a moment before."  
  
Tsukushi just shook her head, and strode off, only to return a few minutes later, a frown creasing her tired features.  
  
"No luck?" Akira asked cautiously.  
  
"Not yet." Tsukushi shrugged off the almost palpable tension as she got behind the wheel once more. "Fred saw him last week, but isn't sure where his new hideout is. But he did say to ask Carl. So the shelter's our next stop." She spoke with easy practicality, as if she were used to these places and their downtrodden inhabitants. The three men in the car with her could only exchange bewildered glances. Without her, they'd be lost and clueless. They were not used to functioning in a realm where a kind word and a helping hand could do more to win information than money and a handsome face.  
  
Another stop, outside a nondescript two-story building. Another wait. This time, when Dr. Makino returned to the car, none of the three men quite dared to ask if she'd met with success, and Tsukushi, herself, failed to volunteer any information. Rather, she drove them deeper into the slum, to a grimily depressing area where household trash spilled freely out into the streets, mingling with the crushed remains of crack vials and used condoms. Rats, and larger beings lurked in narrow alleyways. All in all, it was not a scene to inspire hope. Indeed, Tsukushi's face grew grimmer as they approached their destination.  
  
The car pulled up to the curb on a seemingly deserted street. As Tsukushi opened the door, her nose was assaulted by the organic stench of decaying garbage and sewage overflow. Nothing she hadn't smelled before.  
  
"Where are you going this time?" Tsukasa demanded. There seemed to be no obvious destination for them here. Belatedly, he was beginning to wonder if the doctor was actually helping them, or merely trying to lead them on a wild goose chase.  
  
"Down there." Tsukushi pointed down a graffiti-covered alley.  
  
"Is that safe?" Akira asked, glancing around nervously at the rapidly darkening streets; streets made yet more gloomy by the grey fog hat had been settling lower over the city with the setting of the sun.  
  
Tsukushi merely shrugged.  
  
"I'm coming with you." The tome of Tsukasa's voice should have brooked no argument.  
  
"No. You're not." Tsukushi said firmly. "You'll stay here until I call you."  
  
"Why not?" Soujiro looked ready to spring out of the car at any second. The nervois tension in the air was as palpable as the city's stench.  
  
"Look," Tsukushi sighed. She really didn't want to have to explain every little thing she did to these demanding strangers, "The guys at the shelter said they'd heard Rui was staying around here, and this alley," She gestured vaguely, "is one of his usual haunts." Not to mention, that a block from here is where the EMTs had found him last night. It was as logical a place as any to look for him.  
  
"So? We Have to come if he's there!"  
  
"No!" Tsukushi's quiet voice cut the air like a whipcrack. "That's the last thing you have to do. You want him to run? I go alone. You can come when I call you." There was a definite note of finality in her voice as she turned and walked away.  
  
"Stubborn bitch." Tsukasa fumed, and the second Tsukushi was out of sight, he climbed out of the car and began pacing restlessly along the sidewalk. Encouragingly, he could hear a low murmur of voices deep in the depths of the alleyway. . . .  
  
Tsukushi found Rui slumped up against a pile of boxes in the back of the cul-de-sac. His pale skin was grey with grime, and his face dripped with sweat, despite the chill of the evening air. His arms were wrapped tightly around his knees as if trying to hold his body still against the nausea and tremors that wracked his emaciated frame.  
  
"Hello Rui." Tsukushi stopped a few feet from the tall man, and looked down at him..  
  
"Doctor." His voice was cold and flat, devoid of all emotion.  
  
"Why did you leave the hospital, Rui?" There was a strangely unprofessional note of concern in the young doctor's voice, "Can't you see that you're killing yourself like this? Why won't you let us help?"  
  
Rui maintained his stony silence. There was no point in explaining to the woman, that he wanted to die, and this was his chosen means to accomplish that goal. A long painfully protracted death; a pain and a craving that wracked his body like the hurt and need that had torn his soul to shreds.  
  
Heedlessly, Tsukushi continued, "Five overdoses! How many more can you take before we don't find you in time? And if that doesn't kill you, withdrawal surely will! Look at you now! You haven't had a fix since last night, and you can't take it, can you? And when was the last time you ate? Anything at all? You have to let us help you. How can you just give up and die like this, slave to a stupid drug?" There was real anger in her voice, almost as if she took his despair and disinterest in life personally.  
  
"Go away." Rui finally looked up, assaulting the doctor with the chill blankness of his stare. "You think you know so much, just because you went to school and took a few classes. You act like you understand me, like you know me. But you know nothing. I'm just another charity case for you, aren't I? Some poor dumb SOB off the street who needs your sanctimonious words to realize the error of his ways and get back on his feet and live a full and productive life. Is that it?" Even though his words were harsh and cutting, Rui's steady monotone varied not at all, and that was perhaps the most chilling aspect of his little speech. "I hate to inform you, doctor dear, that real life doesn't work like that. This isn't a fairytale. And for me, there is no happy ending. That's the way I want it." Rui had to stem the flow of words at last, as a fresh wave of nausea that gripped him. He needed a fix, and needed it badly. But he was dead broke. And the more time he wasted sitting here with the earnestly delusional doctor, the less time he had to go out and earn the cash he needed to keep going.  
  
But Tsukushi refused to leave. Instead, her own anger was ignited by his despairing words, and she used the new information she had learned that afternoon, her words flying into his heart like bullets. "Look at yourself, Rui Hanazawa. Would Shizuka really want you to die for her? Is that the selfish person you loved? You can't even die with dignity, here, like this! She would want you to live, so that her memory didn't die with you." Honestly, Tsukushi had little idea what she was talking about, but the passion filled her and she thought it sounded good, so she spoke without thinking, just letting the words pour forth.  
  
In response, Rui's spine straightened as if on a string, and his clouded eyes seemed to pierce Tsukushi's to the depths of her soul. And now, she finally saw emotion pooled in his gaze. Rui was furious.  
  
"What do you know of Shizuka? Who told you of her? And who are you to act as though you knew her, know anything of us? You are too presumptuous! You know nothing, and you are a fool to have come here! Stop wasting your time and go home to the fairy-tale land from whence you came!" Here Rui paused, and a cruel shadow passed over his drawn features, "Or is it, do you think you can replace her? Is that it, oh doctor dear? Have I found your secret-- that you followed me here, preaching at me, thinking that if you save me from myself, I'll give you the love you want?"  
  
He'd struck a little too close to home, and Tsukushi paled, for it was true, her feelings for this strange junkie did go quite a bit beyond the professional. But she hadn't thought anyone would ever guess her little secret. Watching her expression narrowly, Rui continued cruelly, "You know I can't give you that. . .:" Slowly he climbed to his feet, fiercely suppressing the pain of withdrawal that washed through him. Then, with unexpected speed, he struck out, pinning Tsukushi to the rough wall behind her. She yelped in shock, as his hot breath murmured seductively in hr ear, "But, I can give you a discount on my standard rates, if you want to have a little fun." At this, he ground his pelvis suggestively against hers, "I even promise not to tell the EMTs next time we meet."  
  
Tsukushi yelped, startled by the sudden move and by the innuendo. She didn't hesitate to slap the man harshly across the face, causing him to stagger back. Sure, she knew subconsciously how a jobless pretty-boy like Rui had to have earned his drug money, but having it shoved in her face like that . . It was just too much. She felt the day's weariness pressing down on her, sapping her of her strength and of her resolve. Even worse, she felt the beginning of the sting of tears, either from his harsh words, or from his actions. She had to leave before she truly lost all composure. She pulled herself together and gave the man one last regretful glance. "I'm sorry you don't se things my way. I'd hoped to do this with the minimum of trauma, but now I see that that won't be possible." She turned and fled the sad alley out to where three figures nervously waited.  
  
"Well?" Soujiro turned expectant eyes her way.  
  
"He doesn't want to leave. You're going to have to get him yourself." Tsukushi attempted to sound calm and composed. For the most part, she succeeded, and Akira and Soujiro hurried off, to where their erstwhile friend waited. Rui was about to be assaulted by the surprise of his life.  
  
Only Tsukasa noticed that something was not quote all right with the doctor, and he hesitated a moment before following after Soujiro and Akira. But the lure of seeing Rui again was too strong, and so he didn't see the slow tears that crept down Tsukushi's cheek, as she waited, holding herself tightly, for the three to emerge with their needed fourth member.  
  
And she knew, as she stared in to the dark of the night, that even this reunion changed nothing. Nothing had been resolved, nothing altered by this meeting. None were cured, and all still burned and ached with the salted wounds of life.  
  
Perhaps her hopes were then all in vain, and Rui had been right to call her a foolish optimist, after all.  
  
To be continued.  
  
~~~err yeah, why is it that chapters always sound better in my mind, before I type them up? Hell if I know. Anyway, thank you all for reviewing. I'm so happy people love angst as much as I do. The next chapter will be up sometime after my tendonitis subsides enough to let me type without pain.~~~ 


	7. chapter 6 in which reality bites

Much later that night, Tsukasa, Akira, and Soujiro stumbled back to their hotel room. Tsukasa immediately commenced drinking, and for once, neither Akira nor Soujiro made any move to stop him. It had been a truly exhausting night. Somehow, despite all rational thought to the contrary, the men had envisioned their reunion with Rui as being a happy thing; an event full of hope and good cheer.  
  
The reality had been. . . otherwise.  
  
Rui had been less than delighted to see the three of them. This was evidenced by his attempts to first pretend ignorance as to who they were, in the hopes that he was less recognizable than he thought. When that failed, he tried to run. After all, he'd fled from their close knit group for a reason the first time -- why would he accept their presence in his life again now, when he was so close to the promised oblivion of death? Well, his attempt to flee failed; he was just too weak to run far. He couldn't even stand and fight the way he'd wanted to. In then end, he'd had to settle for complete and utter non-cooperation. Face slackening into a dead mask, he'd let his muscles go limp, so that he had to be carried from his niche by Akira and Soujiro. He refused to say a word, refused to show any interest in the proceedings around him. But inside, behind the withdrawal-induced blurring and haze, his fertile mind was thinking of how to escape, how to score his next hit; how to fight his way free of these earthly ties. Even now, he could feel them trying to tie him down again; trying to keep him on this plane of existence. Those worried faces, so familiar, so bloody caring! It made him want to vomit. Or was that the chemical dependency talking? It didn't matter. He knew that the longer his old friends were around, the harder it would be for him to finish dying. Why else had he left them in the first place, but to hasten the end?  
  
At this moment, however, Rui had no options. He was too weak from starvation, and the soul-wracking agony of opiate-dependence, that all he could do was let himself be manhandled and carted wheresoever his ex- friends, and the meddlesome doctor would go. . .  
  
Tsukasa had stood by, watching as his friends half carried, half-walked, Rui to the car. The glimpse he'd got of Rui the night before simply hadn't prepared him for this skeleton of a man. This wasted, haunted, withdrawn apparition, and he'd wanted to go to Tsukushi, shake her, and demand, "What have you done with Our Rui?" As if she were somehow at fault for this heartbreaking decay. Almost he did it, almost. . . but he caught himself in mid-stride as he paced furiously towards the stern-faced woman. There was something in her eyes, something hard, and hurt, behind that icy mask of controlled professionalism she wore that brought him up short. Almost he recognized that look, almost he noticed the hastily wiped tears lingering in the corners of her long lashes.  
  
But not quite.  
  
Still, he found himself forgetting the imperious demands he had meant to ask, for a more simple, basic, but equally important, question.  
  
"Now what?"  
  
Now what turned out to be a fairly complicated procedure, involving a mental competency hearing, so that Rui could be declared unfit to make his own medical decisions. Instead, as Rui had long since severed all ties with his family, (and since the F4 had hired a remarkably good lawyer earlier that day), Akira found himself appointed Rui's guardian until such time as Rui was found to be mental fit again. Whatever that might mean. Now, this might seem like it should take ages and ages, and involve complicated court procedures to do, but amazingly, such was not the case. No, in the medical world where health care decisions need to be made with all haste, this was a well-ordered process, a rapid, almost ad hoc procedure that was over before the night was old.  
  
And then, they took Rui to the most highly recommended rehab center in the city, and left him there. Locked up, alone, his cravings temporarily shorted out by a massive dose of methadone. It was almost as painful to leave his broken, frail body there, in that depressingly sterile environment, as it had been to find him in the depths of the ghetto earlier.  
  
By then, it was ridiculously late, and Dr. Makino, who had accompanied the men like a guardian angel -- guiding them through proper protocol and procedure, was looking utterly exhausted. She had thought she was tired before all this began, now, she looked -- and felt-- like death warmed over. If the trio of men hadn't been so preoccupied with Rui and dealing with him, they might have noticed that the doctor's replies to their constant questions were getting terser and with greater pauses while she struggled to remain attentive. She was starting to sway on her feet, by the time they departed the hospital at long last.  
  
None of the men was quite sure what to say to this woman, who though seeming so distant, so isolated in her professional role, at the same time had helped them so much, with such hidden compassion beneath her brisk and businesslike exterior. She dropped them off at their hotel sometime around midnight. The parting was oddly strained, as if none of them were really sure how to act under such circumstances.  
  
Akira settled for a handshake with the young doctor, while Soujiro impulsively pulled the startled woman into a brief hug. (After all, despite her unflattering clothing, she was female, and Soujiro did like to touch. . . . The embrace was necessarily brief, however, as Tsukushi stiffened at the unexpected touch and pulled rapidly away, a strained expression flashing across her face, almost before anyone noticed. ) Tsukasa merely nodded tersely at her. After all, he reasoned to himself -- she was just doing her job-- or rather, what he thought her job should entail. That merited no special attention or thanks. He knew better of course, but he couldn't admit it; that was a path that would lead to apologizing for his previous behavior; which was something his pride could not allow. If Tsukushi was upset by his coolness, she failed to show it. After all, she could rest easier knowing that someone was looking after -- caring for -- Rui, besides herself and a few overworked outreach volunteers.  
  
At any rate, she drove off, went home, and collapsed immediately into bed, ignoring the concerned queries of her roommate, while in their hotel room, the three men sat and brooded, each in their way.  
  
"I need a woman." Soujiro moaned restlessly, as he threw himself across the bed.  
  
"I'm surprised you didn't try to fuck the doctor." Tsukasa snarled, tossing back another shot.  
  
"I only sleep with groupies." Soujiro shrugged, "She look like a fan to you?"  
  
"No, but I saw you trying to get your hands on her a few minutes ago."  
  
"Pure habit." Soujiro said dismissively, even as he remembered the strange way doctor Makino had gone rigid and stepped back from him. That was not the usual way women responded to him. . . .  
  
"What, are you jealous?" Akira, lounged in a chair, trying to ease his sore neck with one massaging hand. "You could have at least tried to be civil, after she was so helpful, you know."  
  
"Hah. Hardly." Tsukasa snorted, "She was just doing her job."  
  
Soujiro rolled his eyes surreptitiously, and looked pleadingly over at Akira.  
  
"We should still do something to thank her. . ."  
  
"Oh, I'm sure we'll get billed plenty. That's how the system works." Tsukasa was well along in his drinking now, and hence his cynicism seemed to be increasing at an almost exponential proportion to his alcohol intake, "I bet doctor dearest is getting rich off saps like us and Rui."  
  
"She didn't look rich." Soujiro protested.  
  
". . .Not yet, any way." Akira was more reasonable, "Maybe we should just invite her to our last show tomorrow before we leave town.'  
  
"Wait!" Tsukasa exploded, "You can't expect us to perform Now! What about Rui! He needs us! We can't forsake him to go punting around on this fucking tour!'  
  
"Dude, we signed a contract." Akira chided.  
  
"Yeah, the record company owns our firstborns unless we finish the tour."  
  
"I thought it was our souls they owned." Akira quipped, effectively killing the conversation, as each man realized that it wasn't their job that was responsible for the chill in their heart, the soul-deep ache that haunted every waking hour. A long silence ensued, until Akira attempted to pick up where he'd left off. "Anyway, we can't cancel another show in a row. We have to go on tomorrow night. And then we go on and finish the tour. Just be glad it's a club show tomorrow, not an arena."  
  
Soujiro heaved a silent sigh of relief at this. He, for one, knew that he couldn't handle the sheer sensory overload of an arena concert. A nice cozy club packed full of busty, scantily-clad blondes. . . now that was far more his speed. His thoughts began to drift off again, as over his head, Akira and Tsukasa continued arguing.  
  
And still. As each player in this little drama eventually fell asleep, the question lingered, hovering in the edges of perception like a persistent midge. An irritation, nagging at the subconscious, demanding attention, requiring a response; posing a question for which they knew no answer..  
  
. . . .What happens Now?  
  
To be continued.  
  
~~~ yeah. This is a filler chapter. . . .Overwhelming gloom! Yay gloom and doom and angst. Really, I swear, my stories to the contrary, I'm not actually an angst-driven, depressed freak. Ok, I've almost reached the point in the story that was as far as I'd thought ahead, so now I gotta figure out where this damned thing is going. Anyway, I'm amazed as ever, by the number of people who seem addicted to my particular brand of excessively melodramatic angst, but thank you all for reading and for those lovely reviews to which I am utterly addicted~~~ 


	8. chapter 7 in which tsukushi gets mail

Tsukushi was sitting in her office the next day, filling out a tiny fraction of the nearly overwhelming paperwork that the hospital administration and their evil HMO collaborators insisted was necessary for her to fill out in order to get paid, and more importantly, to not get sued, when one of the floor secretaries poked her head in through the door with a sly smile.  
  
"Hey Tsukushi. Do you have a secret admirer or something?"  
  
Tsukushi shrugged, "Not that I'm aware of. Why?" She hoped one of her more unbalanced patients hadn't come unhinged and turned stalker, again. (While this wasn't a common occurrence, it happened far more often than she would like -- and, for some inexplicable reason, seemed to be a problem specifically of hers.-None of the other psychiatrists she knew were plagued by quite the same number of psycho devotees as she was.)  
  
"Because." The secretary, a cheerful woman named Anna, grinned gleefully, "A courier dropped this off for you." Triumphantly, she brandished an envelope, which she deposited on Tsukushi's desk. Said envelope was not your standard run-of-the-mill white paper, but rather appeared to be from one of those upscale stationers -- handmade of undoubtedly rare and exotic materials, with subtly hand-painted designs swirling throughout. Despite all this, it somehow managed to avoid seeming effete; rather the crisp paper exuded an air of manly elegance -- if such a thing is not an oxymoron. And. . . Tsukushi sniffed dubiously, either the paper was scented, or else a faint touch of the sender lingered in its fibers; a musky, woody smell-- very masculine, and entirely in keeping with its appearance. How bizarre. Tsukushi didn't know anyone who would send her a letter-- at work, no less, in such an envelope. She didn't think she even knew Anyone yuppie enough to buy stationary such as this, much less a guy? She really, really hoped one of her patients hadn't gone psycho on her.  
  
Her secretary watched with undisguised curiosity, as Tsukushi turned the envelope over. "Aren't you going to open it?" she enthused excitedly, (the woman was honestly a bit of a sap; but when you worked in the psych. ward of a hospital, you had to start finding enthusiasm in even the smallest things to keep life from becoming an utter drag.  
  
"Ummm.. . ." Tsukushi replied, starting fixedly at the scrawled address-- handwriting completely at odds with the elegant beauty of the paper. No; this was no neat calligraphy. In its place, large angrily slanted letters stared up at her from the envelope, simply her name, "Makino." It was a very terse address, as if the writer simply assumed that even this minimal information were plenty -- as if in his mind -- she assumed it had to be a he-- there were only one Makino in the world, (or at least working in this hospital.) Eh. Whatever. It had arrived here, and that was all that mattered.  
  
Slowly she opened the letter, still unsure of who could have sent it. Perhaps if she were less sleep deprived the answer would have seemed obvious. After all, there were three wealthy men, recently met, who might've decided to send her a card as a kind of thank-you. However, she would still most likely have guessed wrong as to which of the three sent it, had she even thought to consider the matter.  
  
As it was, Tsukushi was momentarily confused by the contents of said envelope. A pair of what appeared to be tickets of some sort, and an exceptionally laconic note, in the same bold handwriting as the address. Out loud, she read it, "Thanks. Come talk to us after the show." She paused, "Geez, is that an order? What the hell?"  
  
"Who's it from?" Anna hovered closer, until she could see the tickets, "Oh My god!" she squealed, "You've got tickets to the F4! That show's been sold out for months! Someone must like you a lot!"  
  
"I seriously doubt that," Tsukushi snorted, as her eyes lingered on the boldly scrawled signature, "T. Doumyouji." How bizarre. He'd hardly said two words yesterday, except to make demands and blow up when she couldn't answer his questions. So why was he now inviting her to their show? It made no sense. . . unless his friends had made him send it? Nah. . . they were quite capable of writing their own damned notes. Irritated, she shrugged off the mystery. She hadn't found Rui for Them, after all -- she'd done it for him . . . And for herself.  
  
"So are you going to go?" Tsukushi blinked, she'd forgotten that the secretary was still there.  
  
"No, I'm on call tonight." She shrugged, "besides, I don't like that kind of music." She still wasn't really sure what it was, exactly-- that hadn't been one of the topics the guys had discussed with her, after all, but she somehow doubted it would be classical, or jazz-- her favorite genres.  
  
"Oh come on! These are the hottest tickets in town! You have to go! Besides, Dr. Allen owes you a few favors -- get him to take call for you."  
  
"Look, you're so excited about this, why don't you go?" Tsukushi proffered the tickets to the overly-enthused woman. Anna was about to accept, when she noticed the note, and, more importantly, the signature.  
  
"OhMiGod!" she literally squealed, "Is that Tsukasa Doumyouji? The lead singer of the F4? How can you not go! How do you know him? Isn't he the hottest man alive? Well, they all are. . . you have to tell me Everything." Tsukushi flinched back, as the woman's eyes took on a frightening sparkle. She didn't however, think that the whole truth would make a good story. It was most certainly not what Anna was expecting to hear. Yeah, Tsukushi could just picture it now, 'Well, I helped them find their long lost bass player, who was currently living a life as a heroin junkie and male prostitute, and is now safely locked away in rehab.' That'd go over soo well. Idly, she found herself wondering who their current bass guitarist was, since Rui had vanished so long ago. But she wasn't about to stoop to asking her secretary now.  
  
Tsukushi frowned slightly; she had once known a guy who played bass guitar; it was those memories that undoubtedly had led to her current distaste for rock music.  
  
"Err. . . " Tsukushi temporized, "I saw Mr. Doumyouji in the ER a few nights ago, after, umm. .. someone tried to mug him" Not the exact truth by a long shot, but much more in line with what her starry-eyed secretary wanted to hear.  
  
"That's soo Romantic!" Anna gushed, completely oblivious to Tsukushi's growing scowl.  
  
"Romantic, my ass. It's what I do for a living." Tsukushi grumbled. As if a drunken guy with anger management and impulse control problems could ever, under any circumstances, be considered romantic.  
  
Nevertheless, somehow she found herself being cajoled, and outright bullied by her secretary-- with the added support of the other junior residents, who were soon dragged into the fray, into agreeing to let Dr. Allen take call, so she could go experience the music of the F4 for herself.  
  
Tsukushi submitted with ill-grace, grumbling the whole day about the expected damage to her hearing from the noise, and lungs from the smoke; and potentially to her body, if she were to get caught in the mosh pit. But as the evening grew nearer, she actually found herself growing excited by this change in her routine. And somehow, deep down inside, she knew that her dealings with the F4 were far from over.  
  
To be continued.  
  
~~~Short chapter! I know. But I figured ya'll probably need a quick break from all the angst, so that's what it's here for. Whee, I wrote this while coming up off a serious phenol headache (fucking chemical spills), so I hope it's less silly then I thought. Next chapter should be out Tuesday? Maybe ~cm~~~ 


	9. chapter 8 in which music hypnotizes

"So who are you taking? . . ." The sly hinting continued throughout the afternoon and much of the evening, as Tsukushi's co-workers vied to see who would get that elusive Second Ticket of Tsukushi's. Word had spread rapidly throughout the hospital, fueled no doubt, Tsukushi thought sourly, by idiot secretaries who couldn't keep their mouths shut, that Tsukushi not only had two tickets to one of The most-talked about shows of the year, but had apparently been given them by none other than the bandleader himself.  
  
Tsukushi just wanted to bury her head in the sand and make it all go away. These people, none of whom she even vaguely considered real friends; given that, as a whole, they were a bunch of elitist assholes and tooling gunners, had proceeded to spend the rest of the afternoon kissing up, and hinting, in that ever-so-expectant tone of voice, that, as They were her best friend, and hadn't they covered for her that one time when . (insert insignificant incident here) . . . she should give that ticket to them-- if not, in fact, both tickets. After all, the modern music thing wasn't her scene, was it; and they had this girl/boy/thing that they wanted to impress- - and oh yes, they were all so very deserving. . . .  
  
It all just made Tsukushi angry. She shrugged off all such obnoxiousness, making a few new enemies in the process, and becoming even more determined to see for herself just what all the fuss was about. None of these insipidly sniping assholes would be coming with her.  
  
At around 6 PM, Tsukushi called her roommate, who had just gotten off shift at her day job, but probably had not yet made it to her night job working at Starbucks.  
  
"Hey Yuki."  
  
"Oh, Hi Tsukushi. What's up?"  
  
"Well, can you get off work tonight? I kinda have a favor to ask."  
  
"Umm. . . I can try. What is it?"  
  
"Err. I need someone to go to this concert with me. . ." by the time she finished her (highly edited and abridged) explanation, it was apparent that Yuki had ceased to pay any attention after the first mention of "F4." From the stunned silence on the other end of the line, she could only imagine that her roommate was either staring off into space in a state of complete and utter shock, or else was drooling uncontrollably-- visions of excessively cute guys dancing before her eyes. "Yuki. Are you ok there?" Tsukushi asked crossly, hoping that her friend would at least try to maintain a little more presence when Tsukushi dragged her backstage after the show for the commanded meeting with the guys.  
  
". . . Yeah." Came Yuki's breathless reply, a few seconds later. She took a deep breath, as if she were revving up for some powerful burst of speech, and commenced a rapid volley of babble, so hyped up and enthusiastic that Tsukushi immediately acquired a pounding headache. "Omigod, Tsukushi! This is like fate or something! Can you believe, I actually met Soujiro the other night? He bought coffee from me! -- Isn't he the hottest guy you've ever seen? And now you're inviting me to the show? It's gotta be karma! Maybe he'll recognize me! Do you think so? Oh my god! I've got nothing to wear! Shit, Tsukushi what are you wearing? You gotta come home and help me-- ooh I need to make a good impression!"  
  
". . . Whoa, calm the hell down." Tsukushi sternly reprimanded her friend. "It's not that exciting."  
  
"Not that exciting, what do you mean?" And she was off again, gushing like she'd never shut up.  
  
". . .I take it you're coming then?" Tsukushi mumbled rhetorically, as she headed home to eat dinner and change.  
  
-----  
  
Several hours later, the two girls finally were ready to go out. Tsukushi had searched her closet trying to find anything even vaguely appropriate as club gear, as Yuki had told her, she couldn't possible go to a concert like this dressed in her usual conservative clothing -- the bouncers wouldn't let her in the door! Didn't she know there were these things called dress codes? No, Tsukushi hadn't known. In exasperation, Yuki had taken her socially-illiterate friend in hand, and dug some of her own clothing for Tsukushi to wear. Tsukushi had had to draw the line somewhere, and she refused to wear most of the skimpily clinging, thigh-revealing skirts and scraps of cloth claiming to be tops that Yuki had thrust her way. At last Yuki had sighed in exasperation, and dug out a pair of black raver pants-- butt-hugging, waist revealing, but far more comfortable, and practical than some stupid miniskirt. She had had to agree to one of Yuki's midriff revealing halter tops, however. Tsukushi scowled in the mirror, irritably, as Yuki did her hair. She was a doctor damnit, not some teenage raver-girl-- which is what she thought she looked like in these ridiculous clothes. How was she supposed to maintain any semblance of respectability -- professionality, if (or rather, when) the three guys saw her like this? It destroyed the whole dynamic of the Doctor-patient relationship!  
  
Tsukushi bit her lip in frustration. That was the real problem wasn't it? She had to admit that much to herself. Those guys -- full of such intense emotions-- they scared her. That depth of raw emotionality-- it ate at her defenses like acid. Se needed the barrier of her job -- of that symbolic white coat; to keep them at bay, to keep herself aloof. She didn't want to be human -- to be like them-- and that is what all this might lead to! It was no good! She couldn't do it! Tsukushi blinked back tears. Life wasn't supposed to be like this. Life was supposed to be simple -- she helped people, they went on with their lives, and she with hers. Safe within the hospital walls, Tsukushi could keep the two separate, but not like this; not when they insisted on combining her medical responsibilities with personal cares.  
  
"Tsukushi! Are you ok?" Yuki's worried voice cut through her reverie. Tsukushi started, and forced her face into a calm composure.  
  
"I'm fine, thanks." She smiled up at her friend. "Just thinking. . . Shall we go?"  
  
"Yes!" Yuki jumped up and grabbed her purse, and headed for the door. Tsukushi wasn't far behind.  
  
-----  
  
The club was, as expected, crowded and smoky. Yuki grabbed overpriced drinks at the bar, and the two women elbowed their way into a good position on the packed floor. After what seemed like an interminable wait, the stage lit up, revealing the silhouettes of four men. The music began slowly, an almost imperceptible tremor from the drums leading to a deceptively gentle guitar solo. As the melody built, Tsukushi felt her entire body resonating with the bass-line, her heart beating with the subliminal pulsation of the drums. And Tsukasa hadn't even started to sing yet.  
  
Tsukushi looked up anxiously at the stage. There in the back, Soujiro seemed utterly focused on the complicated rhythms and tattoos he pounded out on his drum set. His short hair was already slick with sweat, his wrists flicking so fast as to be almost a blur, and his face-- Tsukushi bit back a gasp as she watched his face. The man seemed transformed by the look of almost religious ecstasy, so intense as to be indistinguishable from pain, that graced his fine features. Tsukushi tore her gaze away to nudge Yuki, to ask her friend if this is what live concerts were always like, but Yuki was totally unresponsive, lost in her own worshipful daze, her own eyes never leaving Soujiro's face.  
  
Tsukushi sighed inaudibly, and let her own gaze shift to the next pool of light on the stage. The mysterious replacement bass player. A tall man, with a messy mop of hair obscuring his features, he seemed absorbed by his instrument, and showed no interest in the audience. He never once looked up. Strangely, for one so seemingly obsessed by his playing, he seemed to lack the fire and the fury that fueled the rest of the band, his nimble fingers strumming and plucking almost methodically; as if he was distanced from the entire proceeding, or as if he held a contempt for that which he was doing; a secret contempt revealed only in his refusal to participate in the unity of the energy that flared from the other three performers. And, strangest of all, Tsukushi could have sworn she recognized the man. It was, however, hard to tell, obscured as his face was, by his hair, and by his refusal to look up. Not to mention that it had been a long time since she'd seen him last, if indeed, it were the same person. Still, there was something about his form, his posture, that evoked unpleasant recollections on Tsukushi's part, and she nudged Yuki again, more urgently this time, to ask her whom this man was. She hoped, she swore, that she had to be wrong-- the men she had met just yesterday, who had seemed so decent, so concerned, could never associate with one such as he. . . . But Yuki remained oblivious to her continued attempt to gain her attention, and Tsukushi turned her eyes onto then next performer in an attempt to escape her suspicions.  
  
Akira caressed his instrument almost as if it were a woman-- coaxing beautiful chords from it alternately with shrieking agony. Each note seemed to pluck at Tsukushi's heart-strings, sorrow, loss, foreboding, desire, Akira could convey it all in a few simple notes. And he knew it, too. Akira had the power, and he loved his instrument, it was plain, loved what he could make it do, and how it could make people feel. He stroked it, caressed it, plucked it-- and it responded willingly, eagerly to his touch. And, looking around her, Tsukushi could see that many of the women in the club seemed to be imagining themselves in its place; their bodies the recipients of his clever fingers' ministrations. Akira himself wore a look almost identical to Soujiro's; mingled pleasure and pain, a total absorption into the moment. Even his red hair falling forward to cover his face, and obscuring all vision couldn't stop his fingers from continuing to produce the music that even now reverberated through Tsukushi's soul.  
  
And then, a final spotlight seemed to brighten-- pinpointing Tsukasa on the stage. Dressed simply in torn jeans and a tight black t-shirt, he could obviously have cared less where he was, or who saw him. He wasn't here for them. His attitude made it plain, Tsukasa existed solely for his music. Anything that got between him and it would be disregarded as being worth less than dirt.  
  
Without preamble, Tsukasa began to sing, And suddenly, Tsukushi found herself paralyzed by the raw power of that voice. She'd seen him silent, she'd seen him scream in fury, she'd seen him pace sullenly, but she'd never seen him sing. Never thought that one such as he, eternally experiencing such extremes of crude emotion could so suddenly burst forth with such modulation, such depth. Before, she'd thought him simple and perhaps a bit shallow, an angry bully with depression, but now; now she couldn't look away. Just as Yuki stood transfixed by the sight of Soujiro at his drums, Tsukushi felt her own mouth dropping open as Tsukasa's words washed though her, pounded over her, penetrated her soul, and carried her far, far away. For an instant, she could feel what it was like to be these me; to have nothing to live for but this moment of supreme catharsis, where nothing else mattered expect the sound.  
  
And what a sound it was. The music somehow jagged, yet melodious at the same time, extreme, punishingly loud, painfully intense. The room seemed to pulsate with the sheer power of it, song after song of agony. Despite the sea of noise, the lyrics somehow carried clear , cutting through the smoke and haze, on the knife's edge that was Tsukasa's powerful voice. Later, Tsukushi would not be able to recall the lyrics that affected her so, but for the moment she knew; he sang of loss, and death. Of life cut short, of loneliness, of the heartbreak of surviving. The fresh hurt of each new day alone. Not one single song in the entire set was uplifting. In none of them was there any word of comfort or inspiration. The message was clear: the music itself was the only comfort, the only reason they had to continue. It was beautiful, it was painful. It left Tsukushi feeling battered and bruised by the flood tide of these men's emotions.  
  
She had never known music could be like this, that she could be so carried away, that something that sounded so harsh, could resonate so strongly in her heart. Tsukushi hardly even noticed the tears that streamed down her face as she gazed raptly at the man whose words had affected her thusly. Now at least, she thought she knew why he'd invited her. It was his way of saying, "You think you knew us, that you understood all there was to see from our sordid little story. But look here, this is a part of us too. If you want to help us, to help Rui, you have to understand this too." He couldn't say in spoken words what he felt, but in the music all seemed to become clear.  
  
At last, after what seemed an exhausting eternity, the set ended. Tsukasa stood panting, sweat drenched and emotionally drained, no longer an elemental force, but only a man. The exaltation fell from his face, to be replaced by his usual sullen scowl, and his eyes, that had shone so brightly just a few moments before, dulled and faded, as he retreated back into himself. The audience seemed to give a collective sigh, as if, along with him, their own strength had failed them. Tsukushi felt her legs weakening, her shoulders slumping, and the epiphany she'd experienced vanished, leaving her confused. What was it she'd learned here? What truth had she just understood? It all slipped away in an instant's time. . .  
  
Likewise, Akira and Soujiro seemed faded, tired, merely Human. The fourth member: that sullen bassist, however, continued in his disconnect from the rest of the group. He was exactly the same as when he'd begun. Unaffected by the music he produced, he emerged from the set only a little bit more tired, a little bit more sweaty.  
  
Tsukushi drew breath, and glanced at Yuki. Yuki was screaming along with the rest of the audience for the encore. "F4! F4!" echoed from the walls. The floor vibrated with hundreds of stomping feet, Tsukushi felt herself beginning to feel claustrophobic again, as the press of bodies jostled and moved around her. It was almost a relief when the group stalked back on stage for the encore.  
  
A gasp went up from the assembled club-goers; something seemed amiss on stage. Soujiro was arguing with the bass-guitarist, while Tsukasa looked on stonily. The argument went on far longer than it should have, and ended with the bassist storming back offstage. People hesitantly stared at heir neighbors as if to ask, "What just happened here?" "What was that all about?" As if sensing the sudden restlessness of the audience, Akira, ever the peacemaker, stepped up to his microphone.  
  
"Hey there." He began with a tired grin, "I hope you've enjoyed our show tonight" He was of course met with a huge roar of agreement from the assembled fans. "I take it that's a yes." Another Roar, "Well, you've been a great audience tonight. One of the best. The energy tonight was simply amazing . . ." Another roar of agreement. Crowds always like a bit of praise, even if it's cliched and trite. When this last salvo died down, Akira began again, ". . . So, we have a special treat for you. Now, I know you all are expecting us to play something from our upcoming album, or perhaps from "No Way Back." (The album that had marked the transition from their boy-band years, to this more serious rock.) "But, we're celebrating tonight, so we're going to go even further back in time. I hope you don't mind." He stepped back and nodded at Soujiro, who, in turn, flashed his dazzling smile at the audience, and came forward.  
  
"Hey," he smiled sheepishly, "So we're going to do one of my old favorites. . . Umm, so, it's been a long time since I sang anything. You'll have to excuse me if my voice is a bit rusty." At this proclamation, the audience gave a collective gasp. It had been three years at least, since Soujiro had sung anything in concert. He was famous for his power ballads and sappily poppy lyrics. So it was unmentionably bizarre for him to be stepping up to the microphone now. Almost no one in the crowd (save, perhaps for Yuki) had ever been a fan of their original music, so this sudden transposition made no sense. Virtually every eye in room stared, almost hypnotized by their confusion., as Tsukasa took his old place at the drums, cracked his knuckles, picked up the drumsticks, and nodded to Soujiro.  
  
"Ok. Here we go." Soujiro pushed his hair back out of his eyes, glancing quickly at Akira for moral support, "Umm. . . We'd like to dedicate this song." Another shock rippled through the club -- the F4 never dedicated their songs to anyone! They were notorious for refusing to sully their moment with references to other people; people whom they could not truly be expected to care about. ". . . Well, I don't know if she's here tonight, but this song is for the woman who gave us hope. . ." Soujiro trailed off again, as if unsure if the good doctor would appreciate being named in front of so many people. He finally decided against it. Shrugging his shoulders as if it didn't matter, he clutched his microphone tightly, and began to sing. A low croon at first, punctuated by glimmering bubbles of spirit, it was obvious that Soujiro had lost none of his touch, as he soared into a sweet ballad.  
  
A more egotistical woman might have thought that the song was about her, but Tsukushi knew better. They may have dedicated it to her, but the song was really for Rui, and the love they all felt for him, the way he filled a hole in their lives, the way he completed them. Tsukushi was just a catalyst to repair the damage. She could never fill the hole herself. Nor would she ever want to. Or so she thought at the time.  
  
To be continued.  
  
~~Err.. that got longer than I thought, so I'll stop now and write the rest of the chapter later.~~~ 


	10. chapter 9 in which junpei appears

Tsukasa sank exhaustedly back into the soft couch. The F4 were lounging around backstage after the concert, awaiting the inevitable radio-show promotions and press flack they had to deal with. Really, all Tsukasa wanted to do was to return to the hotel and collapse into bed.  
  
Soujiro, on the other hand, was eagerly awaiting the surge of hot groupies with backstage passes. He didn't intend to go back to the hotel alone. Somewhere in the crowded club, there had to be one or two well-endowed women who would be ecstatic over the opportunity to help distract him for a few hours. Settling back into his own overstuffed chair, Soujiro licked his lips in anticipation. No one could ever replace Sara in his heart. But then again, that wasn't exactly the point of his little escapades, now was it?  
  
Akira slouched against a convenient wall, his hands tightly gripping a rather large whiskey sour. Concerts were the only time he succumbed to Tsukasa's vice -- but after a show as emotionally draining as this one, he just had to have a little something to take the edge off.  
  
In the far corner, the fourth member of the group, the replacement bassist, a foppish, flashily attired man, sat at a table knocking back rum shots. He was pissed off about the encore -- as evidenced by his childish tantrum on stage, and subsequent retreat. He had wanted to play a track from their upcoming album-- the first, and so far the only-- song he had helped to write. Tsukasa had had one thing to say about that particular track's emotional and artistic merits.  
  
"It's shit."  
  
What was worse, from the bass player's perspective, was that just now, when he thought he'd finally begun to establish his rightful place as a member of this group-- prove that he was an integral part of their new sound -- not just a cheap hire-on-- the other three had ganged up against him; refuting his assertion by taunting him with music he had never been a part of. To Him, it was nothing short of a calculated insult. But he would show them-- he had friends in the record company . . . just let those three fucked-up, arrogant bastards see . Next time their contracts came up for renewal, he'd be a part of the package-- make him an official member, or else! They wouldn't be able to mock him then! Glaring darkly at Tsukasa -- the ringleader of the three, the disgruntled bassist glowered, plotting his eventual revenge even as he drained the bottle in front of him.  
  
The seconds ticked by, as the group's allotted "recovery time" before the inrush of people arrived, vanished into the past. Tsukasa heaved himself to his feet and began pacing in front of the door.  
  
"You did send her tickets, didn't you?" Soujiro inquired anxiously.  
  
"What do you think?" Tsukasa growled. At first, he'd been against the idea entirely. When they'd discussed it the previous night, he'd been of the opinion that the young doctor was just doing her job, that she deserved no special thanks. But then, long after the other had drifted off to sleep, he'd lain awake staring up at the dark, thinking. He remembered how she'd stood up to him; this little slip of a woman-- seemingly not intimidated in the slightest by his killing stare, by his silence and non-cooperation, or by his more vocally furious rage. There were few enough other people who could say the same. His friends here, they stood up to him, as had his sister -- to tell the truth, she'd more than stood up to him; she'd always given him the ass-kicking he deserved. . . And similarly, he realized that Doctor Makino had done the same -- though her ass-kicking had been purely verbal as opposed to physical. After all, he'd silently snorted; it wouldn't do for a serious psychiatrist to go around smacking people upside the head. The imagery had almost made him laugh, as he lay there in the dark. And then there was the way she'd found Rui for them. Now, he realized, she hadn't had to do any of that. She could've found him without telling them, she could have not bothered with their problems. Instead, she'd listened to them, guided them through everything; been calm and reasonable when their nerves were all jangled and frayed. . . It was more than just her job. Tsukasa almost wanted to believe this unstoppable woman -- who ploughed ahead like the energizer bunny despite her all-too-apparent physical exhaustion-- actually cared about them.  
  
It had been painfully obvious over the course of the previous night, that she cared about Rui. She'd tried to hide it; tried to maintain her emotional distance, but Tsukasa had read something more in the flicker of her glances, and in the timbre of her voice, as the four of them discussed what to do, and filled out all the necessary paperwork. . . . It wasn't until much later that night, that Tsukasa had realized that . . .he wanted someone to show that level of concern for him. If she could strive so hard to save Rui-- a man who many would label as unsalvageable, and shrug, and walk away-- then surely, there was someone who could help Tsukasa as well? Tsukasa wanted to believe that he was not as hopeless as Rui; wanted to believe that somewhere there was true hope for him; for them all. If he had remembered how to hope, then surely, he would have designated Tsukushi as the messenger of that hope -- the carrier of light into his dark and dreary life.  
  
Contrary to all outward appearance, there was more to Tsukasa than his icy silence and burning fury. There always had been, but he deemed too few worthy of witnessing that side of him -- outside of his stage performance, that is. Somehow, when he'd awoken this morning, he'd found himself wanting to apologize to the doctor for all his previous behavior. But, he had too much pride for that; he couldn't just out and say he'd been wrong. The closest he could come to such an admission, was to follow Akira's advice, and invite the woman to come see them. Early that morning, he'd slipped out of the hotel, wandering the streets until he found what he'd been looking for -- an entire stationary store full of exquisite paper. It hadn't taken him long to select just the stock he'd been looking for-- He was an artist after all, no one could deny that he had taste when he wanted to exercise it! So what if his penmanship left something to be desired? Tsukasa would have killed the first person to laugh at the contrast between his script and the paper that bore it.  
  
The tickets had been slightly more difficult to obtain. He'd called their agent, gruffly demanding comp tickets for the show. After all, it was in their contract that they, as a group got so many per show. But the poor man, flustered, as ever by the harsh tones of Doumyouji's voice, had stammered out that since the three of them never seemed to use theirs, he'd given them all to their fourth member, for his cronies. Doumyouji had raged and fumed until his agent had practically begged for mercy; promising to do his best. An hour later, the tickets had arrived at the hotel, undoubtedly reclaimed from some unworthy bimbo. Tsukasa couldn't have cared less about the source; he just wanted Tsukushi to show up.  
  
Perhaps subconsciously, he realized that Tsukushi was one of the few people on the planet who might truly understand heir music for what it was-- the purest expression of their souls -- their hurts, their needs, and their loves. Perhaps he wanted her to know all this; perhaps he wanted her to see just who he was inside -- beneath the frown, and the sneer, and the leaden eyes.  
  
Perhaps and maybe cover many eventualities; but how could any of these potentialities be proven true, when he, himself, didn't know the answer?  
  
A scuffle outside the backstage door brought Tsukasa crashing abruptly back into reality. The madhouse was about to begin. He stalked back to his spot on the couch and turned his attention to the ice-cold bottle of vodka that rested on the end table. He had promised himself that he wouldn't drink until after they'd spoken to the doctor. But that bottle was practically screaming his name. . . his hand trembled a little as he fought the craving welling up inside. He hoped the blasted woman hurried. If she was going to show, now was the time. . .  
  
------  
  
Tsukushi and Yuki were busy fighting their way through the seemingly impenetrable crowd of adoring groupies flocking around the backstage door. A few well placed elbows, a few accidental stomps with their heels, and Tsukushi and Yuki broke through the ranks, only to be met by a disdainful bouncer at the door. The bouncer looked the two girls up and down with a critical eye. The blonde, he thought, wasn't half bad, why he could do with a little of that action, himself-- but the brunette? Bah, too uptight. No way was she getting into the party.  
  
"Umm. . .Hi." Tsukushi stammered at first, reacting to the man's intimidating appraisal, but it only took her about half a millisecond to recover herself. After all, she was worth ten of him, any day, "We're on the guest list." Well, she assumed they damned well better be, otherwise Mr. Doumyouji had invited her here for nothing, "Tsukushi Makino." She elaborated, as the man's gaze flickered to his clipboard. "And guest." She nodded at Yuki.  
  
How bizarre. The bouncer flicked an eye in assent. She was in fact, on the list. Who would've thought it? He stepped aside ever-so-slightly, letting the two girls slip past into the warmly-lit, and remarkably smoke-free, room beyond.  
  
"Doc!" Soujiro was the first to notice (and recognize) the petite woman. Enthusiastically, he jumped to his feet and wrapped the unsuspecting woman in a warm hug. Stiffening, Tsukushi extricated herself as rapidly as possible, while an unnoticing Soujiro peppered her with a volley of questions. "Did you like the show? Have you seen Rui today? What did you think, and Oh! . . Who's your friend?" after a slight lag, he noticed Yuki shyly hiding behind Tsukushi. . . "Hey. . ." He drawled, his eyes lighting up, "Haven't we met before?"  
  
Yuki, blushed and nodded.  
  
"Hmm. . . Starbucks?" Soujiro thought a moment, ". . . Wait, don't tell me. . Yuki?"  
  
Yuki blushed an even deeper shade of crimson, smiling happily. If there was a heaven, she thought she'd found it. Soujiro Nishikado actually remembered her!  
  
"I never forget a pretty face." Soujiro grinned charmingly, and seeming to forget all about Tsukushi, pulled Yuki aside to "chat" with her in his own secluded corner.  
  
"Sorry about that." Akira had pulled himself away from his wall to appear at Tsukushi's elbow, "guy's got a blonde complex this month."  
  
"Err. . ." Tsukushi looked slightly flustered. She was already berating herself -- Again! For coming here tonight. And now, she had Yuki to worry about. She certainly didn't trust her around these guys-- after all, weren't musicians notorious sex-fiends? Especially a charmer like Mr. Nishikado seemed to be?  
  
Akira must have recognized the worry that inspired her frown, as he glanced off to where Soujiro was putting the moves on a giddily babbling Yuki. "Don't worry about your friend. Soujiro will take good care of her. . . he's had years of experience, after all."  
  
That was probably not as reassuring as he might have thought it was.  
  
Tsukushi thought it might be to see what the hell these men wanted that couldn't be said during her working hours, so she could collect Yuki before she did something utterly stupid, and get home in time to get a reasonable night's sleep for once in her life.  
  
"So what did you want to talk to me about?" she demanded, rather more coolly than the situation demanded.  
  
"Well," Akira had to smile at the doctor's defensiveness, "It was actually Tsukasa who wanted to speak to you, but he's stepped out for a few minutes. Do you want anything to drink while we wait for him to return?"  
  
Tsukushi wrinkled her nose. "No thanks. What does he want?" What she really wanted to ask was, 'What do you all want? What was the purpose in bringing me here? Why are you trying to involve me in your lives?' She didn't want that, couldn't they see? Couldn't they just stay in the neat little boxes she'd assigned for them?  
  
Akira shrugged, "Well, we have to leave town tomorrow, he probably wants to make sure everything is set for Rui-- you know. Double-checking to make sure everything is going to be ok. -- It is going to be ok?" he finished anxiously, steering Tsukushi towards a seat on the couch. Again, Tsukushi flinched ever-so-slightly at the light pressure of Akira's hand on her back. But this was nothing compared to the whole-body recoil she evidenced as she noticed, for the first time, just who the group's bass-guitarist really was.  
  
Akira watched, in an almost horrified kind of shock, as Tsukushi jerked, twitched, and drew herself stiffly up to her full height. Her face, which had seemed at least cautiously friendly mere seconds before, had frozen into an icily formal mask, and when she spoke, her words were crisply neutral, though underlined by a strange sort of almost defensive anger.  
  
"I seem to have made a mistake. I thought that you were worthy of Trust. That you could help bring Rui back to himself. I think now, that I was wrong." Akira couldn't help but notice the sidelong glare she sent at the seated man at the table. "A man is known by the company he keeps." She continued, "I think I'd best be going now. Don't try to see Rui. The sooner you leave town, the better. The last thing right now that he needs is friends like you." Again Akira noticed her eyes slipping away from him to focus on the odd man out -- the only one of them, he had thought, she'd never met. But before he could protest-- tell her she'd got it all wrong, she had stalked over, collected a shocked and disappointed Yuki, and vanished out the way she came.  
  
"What the fuck did you do to her?" Tsukasa returned from the bathroom just in time to see Tsukushi storm quietly out, dragging her protesting friend behind her.  
  
"Me? Nothing." Akira protested, "One second she was fine, the next, she just lost it."  
  
"Damn it man, I was totally going to score with that Yuki chick." Soujiro whined, joining the discussion.  
  
"Oh shut up." Tsukasa fumed.  
  
"Blondes are a dime a dozen." Akira laughed, "I don't think you're in an danger of not getting laid tonight. I have to agree with Tsukasa here, shut up and think about something other than your dick for a few minutes. Namely, why did the good doctor flip out?" He shot a significant glance towards the bass-player, who was just now staggering to his feet.  
  
"Hey. . ." The man called querulously as he approached the group, "Why are you all looking so grim? And where's the chicks? What the fuck is wrong with this club? I need my fans!"  
  
"Oh fuck off, Junpei." Tsukasa growled impatiently.  
  
"Yeah," Akira looked at their fourth 'member' accusingly, "After all, it was the sight of you, apparently, that sent our earlier guests fleeing for the door."  
  
"Well, fuck." Junpei slapped his forehead in exaggerated surprise, "I thought I recognized that girl."  
  
Unconsciously, The other three men found themselves bristling at the reference of Tsukushi being a mere girl. Already, they saw her as far more than that.  
  
"How do you know doctor Makino?" Tsukasa looked like he was about to grab Junpei by the collar and start shaking him.  
  
"Wow dude, you mean it really was her? Tsukushi Makino! Hell, I went to college with her. What a tight-ass bitch she was, a total cold fish, if you know what I mean."  
  
"I don't think she likes you much either," Akira interrupted dryly, before Tsukasa could do so in a more physical manner.  
  
"Well, shit." Junpei shook his hair back, "That's gratitude for you. And after all I did for her too." He looked up, pityingly at he glaring faces of the F3, and continued, 'You poor suckers. She's got you under her spell doesn't she? Trust me, you're not her type." With these mocking word he hastily backed off, to welcome the sudden inrush of eager groupies and media personalities into the room. None of these innocents souls could read the light behind Junpei's eyes; the cold calculation f his brain as he silently completed one last thought, "If I couldn't have her, then certainly none of you sorry losers ever will. Not if I have any say in the matter."  
  
-----------  
  
Meanwhile, Tsukushi and Yuki were headed home, Tsukushi frowning grimly as she navigated her beat-up car through darkened streets.  
  
"But Tsukushi!" Yuki pled softly, "I don't see why we had to leave! It was like a dream come true! I've never met anyone so handsome, and so charming before! And he really seemed to like me! . . A beautiful dream." Yuki sighed, her eyes still focused on the past -- imagining Soujiro's eyes in the twinkling of every street light and window.  
  
"The problem with dreams, Yuki" Tsukushi replied slowly, as she steered the car to a stop outside their apartment building, "Is that eventually, you always have to wake up." She bit her lip to keep herself from burdening poor sweet Yuki with harsher words, and hastened inside, shedding her ridiculous club gear for the comfort of a scaldingly hot shower. She felt dirty now, confused and angry, and though she willed herself not to think about it; she couldn't help but wonder if she'd overreacted, perhaps a little; been too harsh on her new acquaintances. At this, she scrubbed more furiously, as if trying to remove the lingering doubts via exfoliation. It was too late now, she reasoned, and Anyway, she was sure Junpei was spinning some story -- if he'd even recognized her at all -- painting her as the criminal. After all, as she knew to her everlasting regret, he sure as hell had a way with words-- twisting them around as if reshaping reality to suit his wants, his needs. . . and some how, some way, reality always seemed to oblige him; delivering up exactly what he wanted, despite the costs to others. . ..  
  
Tsukushi looked down wearily, refusing for the moment, to remember any more. In her distraction, she'd scrubbed herself raw, and now the scalding water was beating a painful tattoo on her flayed skin. It was definitely time for bed. Tomorrow would be another long and lonely day. . .  
  
To be continued. . .  
  
~~~fuck. Another chapter that failed to write itself the way I wanted it to. Whatever. The plot seems to be complexifying itself, regardless of my feelings in the matter.  
  
Ok, I think it's time for another round of responses to my reviewers (all of who, I utterly adore, as I'm sure I've mentioned before -- were it not for you, I wouldn't bother typing any of this up. It'd just lurk in my brain, until it was erased by the changing tides of my short-term memory. ..  
  
ANONYMOUS-- pairings? Is this a romance? I don't really have pairings at this time. Rui is a bit too self-pitying to rouse himself enough to go after Tsukushi. She obviously has a thing for him, but a) unrequited crush is a pretty useless thing, and b) it's extremely unprofessional for her, as a psychiatrist, to be pursuing a patient. She wouldn't do it.  
  
SHEEN -- Thank you so much for your amazing reviews!!! I'm glad you like my work. (I have to admit it, though -- I'm a terrible person -- I been reading façade, but never reviewing. (I am such a lazy-ass) Please forgive me. (and update)!!!  
  
NERD -- Sneaky references? I tend to believe I'm about as subtle as a kick to the head. Soon. . .yes soon. . . we shall learn all about Junpei and Tsukushi's shady past, in another 'triumph' of heavy-handed melodrama! Whee! I hope it's not too gloomy for you so far! Also, you too, must update purity of heart asap. Finally conflict building faster. Yay conflict!  
  
Damnit, my wrist is killing me, I'm gonna have to lump everyone else together, so: kithkin, yan, piglet, shopps, joshniki, toinks, fresh8, and anyone else I may have inadvertently left out -- thank you all so much for your support. This fic is a hell of a lot more fun to write than my other ones! So I'm glad you're all enjoying it. : ) : )  
  
Anyway, I have to go update idiots. Bah, what a pain, so next chapter of this might be a while -- and, I also have to let ya'll in on a little secret-- I been poking at the decayed corpse that is 'shift in the wind' recently -- with a little luck -- and a new burst of energy on my part -- I may even manage to resurrect it by september. Oh joy. ~cm~~~ 


	11. chapter 10 in which tsukasa threatens

The next morning passed by in a whirlwind of activity. For Tsukushi, at least. No sooner had she finished her morning ritual of seeing to admitted patients, when the first of a seemingly endless string of outpatients began to parade through her office. That duty eventually done with, Tsukushi had to then spend the rest of the day-- and undoubtedly, would be spending the night too-- in the ER evaluating fresh wave upon wave of crazies. She was tired before she even began. But, at least the frenetic activity took her mind off other things-- other things such as last night's encounter -- and the near miss she'd had with Junpei.  
  
Tsukushi shook her head in irritation. She would not dwell on it now. It was no longer her concern. Junpei had won once. She would not let him get the upper hand on her ever again. And in fact, she would have been happy to never have had to see him again. Last night's vision had been such a shock-- especially after she'd even begun to think that the other members of the F4 might not be as bad as the first impression she'd received. . . . but if first impressions could be deceiving -- then what about second and thirds?  
  
Again. Tsukushi resolved not to think about it. She had real patients right here; right now, who needed her. With that thought, she turned to stride from the examining room in quest of her next patient.  
  
She was most displeased to find her exit blocked. And even more upset by whom it was that glowered there, preventing her escape. But of course, she didn't allow this sudden nervousness to show. That would not be proper.  
  
"Please move." Tsukushi assumed a stern tone, utterly devoid of even the slightest tinge of familiarity. "I have work to do."  
  
"No."  
  
"Then, I'll have to call security." Tsukushi made as if to reach for the phone hanging on the wall nearby. However, her move was swiftly intercepted by the man's swift reflexes, as he reached out and seized her wrist in his vise-like grip. "Release me!" Tsukushi gasped furiously, trying to tamp down a rising sense of panic.  
  
"No." his voice was harsh and implacable, "You ordered that Rui could have no visitors! Why did you do that?" That last sentence held more than a hint of desperation; a frantic need reflected in the painfully deep eyes that glared down at Tsukushi.  
  
"Mr. Doumyouji." Tsukushi fought to retain her self-control. "You mistake me. I am a resident at city hospital. Here. I have no power at Shadybrook." (The rehab center at which Rui had been incarcerated for the time being.)  
  
"Don't play stupid, doctor." Tsukasa spat out the word 'doctor' as if it were some kind of vile curse. "I don't know how you did it. But you're the one responsible. So don't even try to lie." He snorted contemptuously, "You're not very good at it, anyway."  
  
"Mr. Doumyouji." Tsukushi began again, as she tried once more to break his grip on her wrist.  
  
"Oh shut up! I'm not done yet." It was obvious that Tsukasa was seriously pissed off by this whole thing. "I don't know what the fuck your problem with Jun is, and I don't care. But it has nothing to do with us and Rui. . . .I can't believe you call yourself a professional, when all you seem to care about is yourself and your petty power games. You disgust me." With that, Tsukasa flung her arm away as if it were toxic waste, and strode out of the room. He had to leave, he knew, before he lost control and did something that could get him arrested. But damn, he Had to see Rui before the group left for their next tour destination. There was no way he was going to let that bitch stop him.  
  
Storming out he way he did, Tsukasa had no chance to observe the cracks in Tsukushi's composure left by his actions. He couldn't see the way her face started to crumple, or the way she wrapped her arms tightly around her middle, as if trying to hold herself together through sheer force of will. Slowly, one hand rose to cover her face, as Tsukushi stood still for a few moments, forcing herself to breath deeply, slowly, until she was calm again.  
  
Still, as she tried to go about the rest of her duties that afternoon, Tsukushi could still feel a tingling in her wrist where Tsukasa had grabbed her, nagging at her subconscious, and reminding her of all the things she'd rather not dwell upon.  
  
In fact, Tsukasa's violence, rather than impressing upon the young doctor his sincerity and his need, instead made her even more unwilling to consider changing her mind -- made her more certain that the decision she'd made last night was the correct one.  
  
How could she know how wrong she was, when no rational being, such as Akira or Soujiro had come to explain things to her properly? Perhaps she would have relented, if she'd known how little these three respected their bass- player, how little they listened to him, how little time they spent in his company. His instrument was a necessary part of their sound, that was all. And he was, despite his other shortcomings, the best man they'd found in all their auditions. He was technically proficient and able to keep up with them, to mesh with their sound, despite his aloofness and utter lack of rapport.  
  
However, Tsukushi knew none of this. Instead, her baseline assumption was that a group as small as this, that traveled everywhere together, trapped on a tour-bus for days on end, had to know each other on a fairly intimate level, had to have absorbed and adopted each other's attitudes, beliefs, and modes of behavior. How else could they survive such long tours without killing each other? Tsukasa's violence and vehemence had merely helped to support that theory, and as Tsukushi paced down the sterile hospital hallways, she suppressed a small shudder. She'd obviously made a huge mistake. She wasn't letting them near Rui, any time -- Ever! She had to make things right for him. And this time she would not fail.  
  
This she swore grimly, as her day continued on its grinding way; as she listened to endlessly repetitive stories of miserable individuals-- depressed drunks whose husbands had left them; suicidal old widowers, angsty teens with one slit wrist; all the miserable cries for help of a tortured humanity.  
  
All she wanted was to save one, just one. Her first case, her worst case; Rui Hanazawa. Was it so wrong to want Rui to be lifted out of all this? To want to see him smile? To see him relax in the bliss of a sunny day, instead of from the rush of heroin speeding through his veins?  
  
It couldn't be wrong. She couldn't be wrong. She had to be doing the right thing.  
  
Tsukushi hardly even noticed her hands curling into fists, her shoulders tensing, as if she were about to fight off some unseen enemy. She was protecting him! She was! She wouldn't be proved wrong. . . .  
  
Or so she thought.  
  
-----------  
  
Rui paced back and forth in his narrow little cell. The doctors in this prison wouldn't call it a cell at all, not by a long shot. But then, they wouldn't call it a prison either  
  
He did.  
  
It was a prison, caging him in, locking him down into life. The door to his room was locked. He couldn't escape. He sought death, his only freedom; the only true freedom. He was no fool, never had been. He knew the rush of heroin was just an illusion, by itself no true escape. But it was still the vehicle that took him where he wanted to go.  
  
Morosely, Rui stared out his barred window at the lush lawns of the rehab center. He'd been so close, so close to freedom. A few more weeks, a few months. He knew it. And they had to take it all away from him!  
  
Rui looked down at his emaciated body. He'd been undernourished, malnourished for so long, he'd almost forgotten what it was like to eat a proper meal. He was rarely hungry anyway. They made him eat here. And he hated it. Hated the high calorie diet they forced into him. They wanted to see him flesh out, see his skin take on a healthier shade, instead of its present sickly yellow pallor. But he wanted none of it. He'd refused to eat yesterday. Sitting there, in stony silence, his expressionless face focused on infinity, he'd imagined Shizuka, waiting for him, somewhere in the great beyond. The only dream he wanted.  
  
But they'd taken the tray away, and sedated him, and shoved an IV in. If he remembered how to laugh, he might have laughed at that. The nurse they'd sent in had obviously been new. She had no clue that he'd long since used up all the good veins in his arms. She struggled for what seemed like hours, not the mere minutes it truly had been, trying to find some place, any place, to stick the needle in. Finally she'd given up, and they'd called a real doctor in to put in a central line. Gingerly, Rui massaged the small puncture mark under his clavicle. He hadn't yet decided which was worse-- the worse-then-helpless feeling of being tube-fed, or the fact that no matter how he tried, they weren't going to let him die the way he wanted.  
  
They'd offered him a choice after that. Eat the food on his own, or suffer the worse indignity of a GI tube -- calories delivered straight to his stomach, a tube passed down his unwilling throat. Not much of a choice, really. Reluctantly, Rui had agreed to eat. Later, they'd come to remove the central line, and give him more methadone.  
  
Rui frowned. Methadone. Hah! As if that could save him. You have to want to be saved. He knew the relapse rates as well as anyone. He hadn't chosen to come here out of any misplaced fit of optimism. He'd been trapped, like animal, and forced to endure this useless "therapy." Did they really think the group sessions, with other addicts, and with some insipid shrink could change his mind? The second they let him out, or even, the second they left him unattended, left the door unlocked. He'd be gone. Out of here and back on the streets, back where he belonged. In the no man's land between life and death, slowly inching his way towards nirvana, one hit at a time.  
  
But now, they were trying to reverse the natural order, trying to fight entropy. They wouldn't succeed. Not here. These blithering shrinks with their soft voices, and their soft hands, their lying words, their pretense at compassion. They were useless. This was just a delay. A detour he had to endure before he could get on with the business of dying.  
  
He could pretend to be well, pretend to put up with their fiendish attempts to help him. They'd let him go eventually, after he persuaded them he was cured. If he played it right, they'd never know it was all a lie, and even if they suspected, they wouldn't be able to prove it. They were all idiots anyway. Do-gooder idiots. Rui sighed. It was a damned good thing Dr. Makino wasn't here. She'd see through his deception in an instant-- her shrill voice, so unlike that of any other psychiatrist he'd ever met, berating him for his feeble attempts. Oh he knew that voice; session after session of her harping at him, verbally pounding away, trying to find a chink in his armor through sheer stubbornness, asking stupid questions, irritating questions, anything, just to try and get the slightest reaction from him. He would have liked to think that he'd fooled her like all the others who had tried, and failed before her, but he knew better. Her highly unorthodox approach had made him laugh a few times, had pricked his interest; maybe even helped stave off his decay a few more months. He'd found himself coming almost willingly to her sessions, just because she amused him so much more than all his other therapists combined. It was only after he realized what he was doing, that he forced himself to stop going, to use up his precious cash reserves at a greater rater -- more heroin, as often as possible. Trying to end life sooner, but unwilling to just slit his wrists. No, No, he wanted the full experience, the long slide down. And no mere doctor was going to stop him.  
  
He didn't know how the F4 had realized he was in this city, didn't know how they'd persuaded Dr Makino to help them. Didn't even know how they'd found out that she was the only person who'd care enough about this lost cause to help them. He couldn't really bring himself to care about all these hows and whys. All he knew what that they had. If he wasn't so numb on the inside, so dead already, he might have cursed them, might have cried in frustration. He'd never wanted them to see him like this, never wanted them to attack him again with their needs, their pleas. Couldn't they understand that the only way out of their dysfunctionality was death? One way or the other, they all had to die sometime. Clinging to their group, clinging to their unity-- it would just prolong their misery, by making them think there was something good out there, some thing to belong to; a family. But the family was dead. Had died that day, in a twisted heap of metal on a rain-slick highway. Everything that was good in their lives, gone in an instant. The others thought that their music could help them, that it could give them something to live for. They clung to it, and to each other, as if it were a lifeline.  
  
But they were wrong, Rui knew, It wasn't enough. Why else had Tsukasa started drinking? Why else had Soujiro begun pursuing sex with the single- minded intensity of a crazed nymphomaniac? That was why he'd decided to die. They could never be whole, even with each other, even with their music. And so. Rui'd slipped off one night, leaving them and their false hope behind. Hoping never to feel it again.  
  
And It had hurt like a physical slap, when they found him again, their need for him rasping painfully on his awareness. Their ridiculous faith that now he'd been found everything would be right again, that they'd climb out of their own despair and be happy again. What foolish belief! They hadn't been on their way to recovery before he left, what could make them so delusional as to think things would be better now?  
  
Three fools clinging to a desperate hope. A hope that forced him to live again. Rui wanted no part of it. But then, locked up as he was, he didn't exactly have a choice in the matter, now did he?  
  
Rui paced the room once more then slowly lowered himself onto the small bed. A bed, an actual real bed. Not a box in an alleyway, or one of those shitty cots that were all the shelters and flophouses could afford, but a real bed. He despised the luxury, the reminder that he was still human, still human enough to actually enjoy such luxuries. He would have slept on the floor if they'd let him, in an effort to deny himself that luxury-- to forget his humanity.  
  
He was absently staring off into space when he heard what sounded like a scuffle in the hall beyond, followed by angrily raised male voices, one of which sounded extremely familiar.  
  
Rui sighed once more, as he awaited the arrival of the F3 at his cell.  
  
To be Continued.  
  
~~~heh. Tsukushi's insecurities are still a mystery. But soon. . .i promise, soon all will be revealed. As if you hadn't already guessed. But I decided it was too soon to do proper exposition, besides, it was time for a Hanazawa moment, don't you think?~~~ 


	12. chapter 11 in which rui gets a gift

"Tsukasa! Can you try to keep it down!" Akira whispered fiercely  
  
"Yeah, you have no idea how much it just cost us to bribe that guard." Soujiro groused moodily.  
  
"What, your dignity?" Tsukasa sneered, "Do you really have to hit on anything that moves?"  
  
"Would you rather we hadn't managed to get permission to see him?" Soujiro shot back, rather crossly.  
  
"Would you two please be quiet!" Akira tried once more, "If you don't shut up, someone with actual authority here might get suspicious. You want to get kicked out before we even see him?"  
  
"No." Tsukasa subsided with one final growl. None of this sneaking around and bribery and flirtation would be necessary if that fucking bitch hadn't spazzed out on them all. He had thought she actually might care about them. But after that trick she pulled, he knew he'd been wrong to trust her. You couldn't trust shrinks, even the unorthodox ones. He wouldn't make that mistake again.  
  
"Ah! Here we are." Soujiro peered at the room-number for a second, then, with fingers that trembled only slightly, slid the lock back and opened the door.  
  
"Rui." Akira called out to the man seated on the bed.  
  
Rui looked up, his face frozen into a mask of nonchalance. He nodded briefly in acknowledgement, then went back to staring off into nothing. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction--- the comfort-- of a positive response. The sooner they left him be, the sooner he could get back to the business of dying.  
  
"Rui." Tsukasa called out more fiercely, "Did you know that that psycho bitch of a doctor actually forbid us to see you? Fucking control-freak, thought we'd be bad influences. But we knew better. You need us! So we came anyway."  
  
Rui continued to stare at a blank point on the wall before him, as if he didn't hear a word that was said. Tsukasa wanted to go up and shake him to elicit any sign of life from the emaciated man, but he refrained, afraid of damaging his fragile-appearing friend. The three men standing in the doorway blinked at each other in confusion, at a loss as to what to do. Shouldn't Rui be glad to see them? Shouldn't they have something to say to each other after so long? In all their fantasies about a reunion, they'd never imagined this-- this chilling disregard emanating from the haunted man they once counted as their brother.  
  
Finally, Rui deigned to speak, answering Tsukasa's rant as if there hadn't just been a two minute lull in the so-called conversation. "Really? I should thank her for her efforts."  
  
"You don't want to see us?" Tsukasa didn't even try to conceal the hurt in his voice.  
  
"Of course not," Rui replied calmly. "Would I have left if I wanted to see you?"  
  
"But we're your family!" Tsukasa protested loudly. Well, the closest thing any of the men had to a family, since they'd been disowned by their own.  
  
"Yes." Rui sighed heavily, and for the first time, turned to look directly at his three old friends. Letting them see, reflected in his eyes, the cold nothingness that surrounded his soul. His voce was scornful, reflecting all their cares, their concern, their tacit pleading need right back in their faces, "You are all fools. Did you really think that finding me would help you find your own salvation. We are, each one of us, alone. I realized that truth. I left, because there was no point in perpetuating a myth. I cannot save you. You cannot save yourselves. We cannot save each other. The best we can do, is drag each other down. . .  
  
"I found my out. I was strong enough to chose my own path to salvation. My own road to destruction. I was content with it. But you had to interfere. Don't you understand how much better it would have been to have let me be." Finished, he turned back to the wall, as if trying to pretend that his visitors had left.  
  
"Better? How could it be better?" Akira demanded, "You were dying in that alley, starving, cold, and suffering withdrawal, because you couldn't even afford your next hit. You call that better?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Again the three turned to look at each other. This was not going as planned. Akira could tell, Tsukasa was getting antsy, looking like he desperately needed a drink, Soujiro was quivering slightly, almost leaning on Akira for support. And Akira, the strongest of the bunch, felt like weeping in frustration. There had to be something they could say, something they could do, to break through to Rui, to communicate with the soft- spoken, thoughtful man they had once known. But he didn't have any bright ideas, none, at least beyond the one that Soujiro had had, back at the hotel. . . And speaking of which,. . .  
  
"Soujiro?" Akira prompted, looking pointedly at the large bag Soujiro had been carrying; a parcel which Soujiro had seemed to have forgotten about almost completely in the interim.  
  
"Oh!" Soujiro recollected his scattered wits. "Rui, we brought you a present. The nurse up front said it was ok." Carefully he laid the package down in front of Rui. "We've been toting this around for a long time, hoping that you'd want it back. . ."  
  
Rui knew a sinking dread, as he regarded the familiar shape of the poorly wrapped package in front of him. His fingers itched with long-forgotten and half-remembered rhythms. No! . . . They couldn't have, they wouldn't have, brought him the one thing he'd never been able to resist.  
  
But they had. With shaky fingers, Rui unwrapped the gift, his fingers skimming gently along the outside of the battered case, finding the latch with practiced ease, popping the lid open to reveal a slightly battered, but painfully familiar instrument.  
  
"What, not the guitar?" Rui asked, the emptiness in his voice belying the turmoil inside, as his eyes caressed the familiar curves of his favorite instrument, the one he'd trained on since childhood before switching to the bass guitar; that is, his ancient violin.  
  
"Well, " Soujiro started apologetically, "This was more transportable. We can get the guitar if you want? We've still got it somewhere, I'm sure." He sounded hopeful, even eager, as if responding to a positivity Rui had yet to evince.  
  
"No" Rui snapped the case shut with an air of finality. He refused to let himself be sucked in by temptation. He would not yield.. "Take it back."  
  
"No." Tsukasa spoke sharply, almost as if he'd seen Rui start to waver. Or perhaps he merely recognized that which called to Rui. For years, music had been the glue which held them all together, kept their fragile souls from fragmenting into a million bloody pieces. So was it any wonder, that even in the depths of his self-absorbed despair, Rui heard the siren song of his violin calling to him, tempting him to lose himself in its dulcet tones, in the haunting melodies that only he knew how to coax from its tensed strings and mellowed wood?  
  
"I don't want it." Rui tried to sound determined, but even to him it was a hollow effort. Even his dispassionate demeanor couldn't hide the desire, the temptation, strumming along his jagged nerves-- the urge to play it again, just one more time; to le his soul soar free on wings of sound, instead of upon the illusory updrafts that drugs provided him. . .  
  
Still, despite all his protests, Rui found, long after the other three had finally left, he was still in possession of the instrument. The violin that seemed to alternately taunt him for his weakness, and call to him; an inescapable summons, telling him to surrender, to touch, to caress the crafted wood, to free the notes that lurked within his long-frozen heart.  
  
With an almost primal scream, Rui lunged at he violin, wrenching it from its case, and raising it high above his head, as if to smash it upon the cold hard floor.  
  
One swift strike, and it would be done; the instrument destroyed, its siren call silenced forever. But he couldn't do it, couldn't bring himself to fracture such a beautiful thing. His downward strike halted abruptly, mere inches from the floor,  
  
Rui watched, almost as if horrified by his own actions, as his trembling fingers stroked the instrument tenderly, an unconscious imitation of a lover's caress. Shaking hands that knew just what to do, exploring the wood, as if experiencing it for the first time. And then, the worst part of it all. . .  
  
Rui raised the violin, took up the bow, and began to play.  
  
For the first time in years, music poured from his fingers, like the slow hot tears that poured like molten lava down the cool slopes of his cheeks.  
  
The one thing that could reach him, the only thing that could touch his frozen heart. . .  
  
Rui wept, knowing that he'd lost this battle. . . and to such a simple trick besides. He'd thought himself stronger than temptation, above such petty concerns, But now, he found himself succumbing; vitality seeping into his limbs with each note he played. . .  
  
Damn them. Damn them all. .. Why couldn't they have just left well enough alone?  
  
And yet, despite this silent protest, despite the cold fury that burned within, the music still poured forth, its melancholy melody soothing his irritated soul, bringing with it a kind of peace, as if its harmony could do more good for him than all the shrinks and drugs on the planet. . . .  
  
Outside, in the hall beyond his cell, doctors, nurses and visitors all paused in their travels, almost hypnotized by the powerful spell being spun by the ethereal sound of Rui's violin.  
  
Even Doctor Tsukushi Makino, stealing a few moments to come and see her favorite lost-cause, stopped on hearing the haunting melody. Leaning back against the featureless corridor wall, Tsukushi felt almost overcome by the intensity of the sound, the purity of desolation echoing in each note, the love affair with despair that carried the haunting melody. Almost she felt she understood what motivated the man she'd come to see, almost she felt his pain. . .And almost, she felt she understood the betrayal he felt; the rage of a captured animal; locked away in a padded cell, unable to act, unable to free himself from the agonizing torture that his life had become. . . But not quite-- For to truly understand all that, she would have had to unlock to doors to a place in her heart she'd long since shut away-- shut away and refused to acknowledge the very existence of. . .  
  
To be continued.  
  
~~sorry if therez typos and shit. I'm kinda running a fever tonight but I wanted to post anyway, and I'm too fried to spellcheck.~~~ 


	13. chapter 12 in which rui makes progress

You could be a little more cooperative!"  
  
"Why should I?" It was said with a shrug.  
  
The reply, more quiet than the initial outburst. "Because you want to live."  
  
A short, barked laugh, "You must have mistaken me for someone else."  
  
-------  
  
Tsukushi was arguing with Rui Hanazawa again. While strictly speaking, he was not under her direct care any more, she still considered herself to be the psychiatrist in charge of his case. He was her patient, and no one was going to take that away from her. They'd tried, of course. The senior management at the Shadybrook rehab clinic didn't exactly approve of her methods. "Appropriate for the ER," they'd sniffed with some disdain, "but here at Shadybrook, we prefer a more measured, laid back approach."  
  
Laid back, her ass! Hadn't they read his file? That method totally failed with Rui, time and time again. He just tuned them all out; them and their fucking 'measured, rational tones', and their 'even discourse'. Condescending twits!  
  
Oh, sure, they claimed there had been progress. Hah! Tsukushi snorted, if so, it was entirely due to the gift of the violin. Nothing the rest of the other so-called doctors and therapists had done had changed Rui's attitude one iota.  
  
But the violin, oh, that precious, beautiful gift. The nurses and orderlies were in awe of the music that now graced this one particular hallway. The other patients in this wing, too seemed to gain strength and purpose from the melancholy tones that wafted through their otherwise sterile and drab environment. The first time she had heard Rui play, Tsukushi had thought she would faint from an overdose of beauty. If music could do this to her, why couldn't it help Rui? Why had he turned to the infinitely less sublime rush of opiates?  
  
It hadn't taken her long to rescind her order that his friends be barred from visitation after that, but it didn't matter, really, they were long gone to finish their tour, and god only knows when they'd be back. Tsukushi had had to ruthless suppress her guilt pains at her potential misjudgment of them; anyone who would bring Rui the one thing that had the power to open him up, even if only a crack, couldn't be as bad as she suspected. But still, she wouldn't apologize, and she wouldn't see them. For she could not forget, even for an instant, what kind of company the other three kept these days. They would be allowed to see Rui under carefully controlled circumstances in future-- but she would be watching them. Only time would tell if her fears were valid.  
  
----  
  
"Then why did you keep coming back?" Tsukushi pressed her point with Rui. They were sitting in one of the clinic's meeting and social rooms. It was just the two of them; Rui sprawled bonelessly across a decrepit couch, while Tsukushi perched on the edge of a sagging chair. In the back of her mind, Tsukushi kept wanting to laugh at the almost stereotypical picture they presented, a shrink and her patient on the couch. If only she had a desk, maybe a cigar or something to complete the Freudian reference.  
  
"You talk too much." That wasn't an answer. Rui draped one long arm across his face shading his eyes as if he were about to go to sleep.  
  
"You're avoiding the issue, Rui." Tsukushi had to fight to keep her voice even, when all she really wanted to do was scream in frustration, "You came to me because you wanted help."  
  
"I came to you, doctor." Rui yawned widely, as if utterly bored, "Because the judge ordered it."  
  
"But you came back! You never came back to any of the others."  
  
"Ah. But Then, I stopped." Rui's voice, cool as it was, seemed to exude victory nevertheless as if he'd found the flaw in her argument and knew it.  
  
"Is that it? You gave up?" Tsukushi could hear her voice getting shriller, "If you really just wanted to sit back and die, you wouldn't have come to any of our sessions!"  
  
"Ah doc. You found me out." Rui's answered sardonically, "Truly, I came back just to hear your sweet voice." He rolled over to face Tsukushi, "Ever since I met you, I've been utterly madly in love with you. Dreaming of wild passionate sex in your office. But you never returned by affections. Destroyed by a broken heart, I returned to the ghetto to die." He sighed dramatically, and watched as Tsukushi turned red and then several interesting shades of purple. She looked like she was about to start screaming any second now. If Rui could have been bothered to care, he would have been amused.  
  
"A joke!" Tsukushi managed at last, unexpectedly breaking into a wide grin, "Rui. You actually made a joke!" It was the first time she'd ever heard him make a joke. That had to be progress of a sort! But her joy was short lived, as Rui frowned, realizing his slip, and pulled himself back under control.  
  
"It was a lapse. Nothing more." He went back to staring at the ceiling.  
  
"But Rui, surely there was something. If we can just find out what it was, we can help you!"  
  
"You really are stupid aren't you?" Rui remarked idly. "And not a very good psychiatrist either, I might add. Go away. You're making me tired."  
  
"Why won't you let us help you!?" Tsukushi knew she was pleading, but she didn't care.  
  
Rui didn't answer; he merely closed his eyes and ignored her. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of knowing that she was getting to him. He tried to shut them all out, all of the therapists with their earnest, insistent voices, their group sessions and their gradual detoxification of his system. He tried to ignore the temptation embodied by the violin on his shelf. But he failed. With each day, it grew harder to ignore the call of the instrument, harder to hear the seductive whispers of the drug.  
  
The doctors here did nothing for him. At least he knew that much. Even took a strange sort of pride in his ability to resist their suggestions, their prodding, their reminders. He could tune them out without even trying. The only one he even bothered speaking to was Doctor Makino, on her rare visits. He had to admit that he was glad her duties at the main hospital took too much of her time to allow her to visit often. He wanted his resolve to remain strong, but somehow she always found a way to get through to him. Perhaps it was her voice, brassy and uncultured, so very different from the well-modulated tones of the shrinks here, or perhaps it was that completely unprofessional look she wore, as she leaned close to listen to him speak. Oh yes, Rui was aware that the young doctor harbored most unprofessional feelings towards him. He told himself he didn't care, that the only woman who mattered was Shizuka. But still, something in him tolerated Tsukushi's presence, and responded to it, despite his best intentions. And he cursed that weakness, that shred of humanity that linked him to the petite, plain, annoying doctor across from him. If only he had the euphoric rush of heroin crashing through his veins, the soul numbing bliss of that delirious poison, he knew he could flay that last shred of humanity from his soul. But instead, deprived of his precious poison, Rui could feel that scrap of soul starting to heal, to grow, and to expand.  
  
He hated it.  
  
Hated his friends for the gift that contributed to this healing.  
  
Hated Dr Makino for prodding at him, and for watering the stunted shoot of his life with her tears.  
  
Hated himself for being too weak to die.  
  
But most of all, he hated Shizuka for leaving him all alone to lose his way like this.  
  
. . . . And he hated the fact that he was starting to feel again, anything at all, even hatred. Each day he tried to retreat into the frigid numbness he'd had out on the street, the emptiness of soul where nothing mattered, not heat, nor cold nor pain. Not hunger, nor fear, nor love. Only the needle; only the fix flowing through his veins like fire. But he couldn't do it, couldn't hide from this life reawakening in his soul, from the new vitality that crept along lean limbs and wormed deeper into his chest, seeking the shriveled, frozen lump that was his heart.  
  
And that was progress.  
  
To be continued.  
  
~~some days I sit here and think, "wow, I'm glad I'm not trying to be a novelist." Please, somebody, anybody, laugh at my misuse of ellipses, my strange insertion of colons and semicolons in places They Do Not Belong. Not to mention the overabundance of commas that has plagued me for over 10 years. Or those dangling participles. God. (This is what happens when you punt grammar class for a dead language, and no one bothers to tell you why you should fix certain issues like that until it's far, far too late.) But hell, if you like it, I won't complain; I will just sit here, blinking in confusion and continuing to churn out heavy-handed melodrama suffused with an excess of angsty maundering. Yeah! I'm having one of those days. ~~~ 


	14. chapter 13 in which time passes

~~~yeah yeah yah. The last chapter was so short because I wrote it while bogged down in the middle of the really fucking long chapter of idiots. So here's another for ya'll. I won't be updating anything until at least the end of next week, since I'm going away. (No sleep for me for the next two nights. Fuck I'm dumb.) And, I know the plot is slow. But since when did I ever write fast-paced plot? Hell, I'm frequently tempted to write stories based on people locked in a room. No plot, only dialogue and a state of being. Events are so. . .irrelevant to internal state. You can be doing the most excitingly glorious thing imaginable and still be miserable, or bored, or angry. So fuck plot. Let's angst some more instead. Shall we?. . . ~~~  
  
And so the days and weeks crept by. Autumn slipped drearily into winter: the city grey and dreary with the passing of the last season's bright foliage.  
  
Tsukushi was tired; tired of the cold, tired of the grey, tired of the rain; the ever-present weight of other people's problems bearing down on her; their need harping at her. . . But it was her life, and this was her job. She had no life outside of the hospital, not really. Who had time for a life when you worked an eighty-hour work week? And even if she had had time fir a life, with whom would she have spent it? She had no friends at work, in the hospital. She never joined the other residents at a movie, or at the pub. Sure, there was her roommate Yuki, but you can only do so much with your roommate before the constant contact drives you both nuts. So really, Tsukushi had no social activities; wouldn't even know Where to begin, if someone were to say to her, "Hey, take a week off, go and have fun." What was fun, after all? What did people her age Do? She hadn't had a vacation since college, hadn't had friends since then, really. And look what that had gotten her.  
  
Instead, she slaved, working herself to the bone; feeling everyone's pain. . . and when she couldn't take it any longer-- She'd go visit Rui and drink in his pain as well.  
  
Was it any wonder that she so often collapsed into bed at midnight or two am, only to start awake two or three hours later from dark dreams?  
  
And then, she'd lie in bed, staring up at the darkened ceiling, the walls that enclosed her like a safety net, and whisper her mantra, "I'm ok. I can't save them all. And that's ok. It's ok. I'm ok."  
  
But it wasn't really.  
  
-----  
  
Another city, another night, another room.  
  
Soujiro reclined amidst a tangle of discarded clothes and tangled blankets. Lazily he watched the woman-- what was her name? Linda? Lindsay? Lynn? rising and falling above him. There was nothing quite like a night of passion to quell his nightmares. Caressing hands slid up slick skin, roaming the beautiful curve of shapely hips, steadying the woman as her movements became more frenzied and erratic. Her breathing came in gasps and moans, breathy pants, as she drove herself to her own voluble climax. Soujiro, soon followed her, to his own, much quieter release, his breath escaping in a soft sigh, as he lost himself in the moment.  
  
Soujiro didn't consider himself a philanderer and a playboy. Not really. It wasn't a game to him. He truly appreciated every woman he slept with. To him, they were all beautiful; nature's finest endeavor. None could match Sara in his memory, but each was special nonetheless. For, while Tsukasa chose to drown his memories in the numbing waves of ethanol, Soujiro chose, instead to find his oblivion in the opposite manner; that is to say, in over-stimulation. The shattering crest of orgasm driving, for one perfect, crystalline second, all memory from him. In that one eternal second of pure sensation, he could forget himself: forget that he'd loved and lost; forget that he hated his life; forget the bitterness that suffused each waking moment.  
  
So was it any wonder that he sought out sex as often as possible? Simple physical contact was all right, when sex was unavailable. Even the casual stroke of an arm along his tensed back, or a ruffled hand through his fine hair, could help, as he focused on the physical to the exclusion of all else. It wasn't a perfect system, but it worked. Mostly. Well, it got him through the day at least.  
  
Soujiro sighed again as he came back to himself. He was still here. Still alive. And that was victory enough.  
  
Soujiro rolled over, as the woman, (he was pretty sure now her name was Lindsey) slid off of him and curled up among the discarded blankets. Automatically, his hand stretched out to trace a seductive line along her side.  
  
"You can't be tired already?" he asked mischievously. A twinkle in his eyes and a stirring lower down proved that he had the stamina to continue a good while longer.  
  
"Again?" her lips twitched up, as Soujiro moved to cover her. She'd never dare hope she'd end up in bed one day with the famous Soujiro Nishikado. Much less that he'd prove such a spectacular sexual athlete. In the course of the brief evening, she'd so far climaxed four times. Admittedly, the last one she'd had to do all the work for. . .but previously. . .. Damn! The man was one hell of a lover.  
  
"Think you can handle it?"  
  
"I can if you can, 'Jiro, baby." She purred, reaching up to pull him closer.  
  
Unexpectedly, Soujiro stiffened and pulled away, his desire draining abruptly away. "On second thought, maybe That's not such a good idea." He forced a winning smile as he rolled away. "It's time for me to check on Tsukasa."  
  
Lindsey pouted, "Surely he doesn't need a babysitter?"  
  
"I wish." Soujiro shook his head in mock regret, "Gotta make sure he isn't burning down the place, or killing someone." He bent down and bestowed an apologetic kiss on the confused girl, before starting the annoying task of finding his clothes and redressing.  
  
"Oh." She was obviously disappointed. But what the hell. No one was allowed to call him 'Jiro. No one except the F4, when they forgot. . . And Sara. It was too much like cheating to sleep with a woman who called him 'Jiro. So he'd never done it. Never would. It was irrelevant that he'd cheated on Sara regularly when she was still alive. He was a musician, and a man; a sucker for pouted lips and supple curves, long legs and the adoration of his fans. How could he refuse? How could he disappoint them. He enjoyed it, and they enjoyed it. But it was only sex. The only one he'd ever Loved was Sara.  
  
His Sara. Who'd called him 'Jiro.  
  
His Sara, who was saving herself for marriage.  
  
Who'd never joined herself with Soujiro.  
  
And who now never would.  
  
What was this chick's disappointment, compared with that?  
  
Soujiro grinned apologetically anyway, "Sorry, babe. You know how friends are." There was no sense in being rude, just because of his hang-ups. Even if every instinct in his body was screaming at him to get the hell out of there and back with Tsukasa. Back with someone who understood.  
  
"Yeah. And musicians." She smiled tiredly back up at him, "I suppose there's no point in asking you to call next time you're in town?"  
  
Soujiro snorted softly, and grinned self-deprecatingly, "Nope! But it's nothing personal. It'd be too much like settling down." Such a liar he was. But she laughed, and he left, and that was that.  
  
---------  
  
Another room, same city, same night.  
  
Soujiro wearily flung himself through the door and across the untouched bed.  
  
"Have you been in here all night?"  
  
"What do you think?"  
  
"Judging by the state of that bottle. . . You damned well better have been."  
  
"Fuck off." Tsukasa snarled, turning his attention away from the laptop he'd been staring at, to face the man sprawled on His bed. "And get the fuck off my bed. Yours is over there."  
  
"Akira's going to be gone all night." Soujiro pouted  
  
"Then I'm taking the other bed."  
  
"Asshole." Soujiro clutched a pillow to his chest, as if seeking a security Tsukasa wouldn't give him.  
  
"Why didn't you stay with that girl then? She seemed to like you well enough at the bar. And where Is Akira anyway?"  
  
"Oh well, you know." Soujiro shrugged and brushed off Tsukasa's first question, "You know that actress, She was in that movie. . .umm . .it won an Oscar for like, best lighting or something. . . in her forties. . . hot. . ."  
  
". . .Married." It wasn't a question.  
  
"Well, yeah. . . Anyway. She lives around here. Husband's out of town. On location in like Bulgaria, or something. So she called Akira when she saw we had a show here. . ."  
  
"I still have no idea who you're talking about."  
  
"Like it matters. But he'll be gone all night. So you're stuck with me." Soujiro sighed and stood up restlessly. "What are you working on?" He moved to peer over Tsukasa's shoulder at the glowing screen of the laptop.  
  
"Nothing." Tsukasa tensed defensively, and snapped the computer shut.  
  
"Hmm? " Soujiro leaned on Tsukasa's shoulder and tried to pry the computer open. "Lemme see. .. Porn? Answering fanmail? Online dating?"  
  
"None of your damned business!"  
  
"Sure it is." Soujiro teased, "Do you know how much it cost to use internet in this place? And who minds the bills? Me. So 'fess up, what are you wasting our dough on?"  
  
"Fuck off."  
  
"Already did that, this evening, thanks." Soujiro continued, "Did I really see a real-estate ad before you shut it off? What are you doing looking at real-estate?"  
  
Tsukasa twisted around to give Soujiro a narrow, measuring glare. "You really want to know?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Tsukasa turned around again, gulped down an unhealthy amount of whiskey from the half-empty bottle at his elbow, and started the computer back up. "I bought a house." He muttered flatly, as if discussing the weather or something equally inane.  
  
"Bought? As in paid money for? Signed a contract for?" Soujiro was ion the verge of hysterics, mentally calculating how much money the group had earned this year, how much they had saved, and how much they'd spent maintaining their lifestyle and image. "What the hell? How could you do that without consulting us? What were you thinking?"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"I won't! Tsukasa, you've got to be kidding me! Have you even seen the place? Where is it? I mean. . what the fuck, man? Why would you do that?"  
  
"Shut the fuck up, Soujiro!" Tsukasa roared. "We can afford it ten times over, and you know it! We need a place. The Tour's almost over -- we need some place to go home to. Someplace. . ."  
  
"But. . ."  
  
". . .Near Rui." Tsukasa finished.  
  
"We could rent! Besides, we're supposed to go to Cali to work on a new album!"  
  
Tsukasa shook his head, "No."  
  
"No?"  
  
Tsukasa took another long pull at his drink, and handed Soujiro the bottle. "You're going to need this."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Drink it."  
  
Soujiro frowned, but obeyed the command in Tsukasa's voice.  
  
". . . I received this email this evening. We have a problem."  
  
To be continued.  
  
~~Ok, I'm off to see how many near-death experiences I can accrue in the next five days. (my favorite activity!) Sorry the chapter's short, and the ending's vague. I'm too tired to write the entire scene, so I'm going to leave you hanging. Oh I'm such a bitch. If I don't die this week, you'll get the next chapter next Friday? Saturday? fiik~~ 


	15. chapter 14 in which email plays a part

~~damn, I know nothing about the music industry. The following scene is wrong in so many ways, but who the hell cares? I certainly don't.~~~  
  
Soujiro's eyes widened as he slowly read the message Tsukasa displayed for him.  
  
". . They can't do that! Can they?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Give me that." Soujiro nudged Tsukasa over, and, draping an arm over Tsukasa's shoulder, grabbed for the bottle. Already, his hands were starting to shake. "Those bastards."  
  
"They don't understand." Tsukasa agreed, glowering fiercely.  
  
"We won't do it! We can't!"  
  
"They're threatening to sue for breach of contract."  
  
"Like fuck, they are! That's such a joke! We put out albums on schedule. We do the fucking tours when we're told. What grounds do they have?"  
  
Tsukasa sighed wearily, and took another gulp from the bottle. "Remember those tracks we released on the web when we were messing around in the studio. You know, the crap that never went in the album?"  
  
"Yeah. . . That was great publicity, man! The fans loved it!"  
  
"They say that according to the terms of the contract, all of our unreleased music belongs to the label. By giving it away for free, we violated the contract and lost them profits." Tsukasa was fairly snarling by the last word. Like profits mattered, as if they cared!  
  
"They weren't complaining at the time!"  
  
"It gets worse."  
  
"Oh. . . Shit." Soujiro's eyes widened as he realized, "Some of those tracks were co-written by Junpei."  
  
"Bingo."  
  
". . . So, We're fucked?"  
  
"Pretty much."  
  
"Shit."  
  
The email the two men were left staring blankly at, was essentially a threat. A totally unsubtle move by the record company to blackmail the F3 into doing exactly what it wanted, at, of course, the price of their artistic integrity. Their contract was up for renewal at the end of the year, and, as ever, the three (or rather, their agent) had entered into negotiations with the expectation that this would go smoothly. After all, they were a big name in the rock scene. Their album sales were still strong. He had pushed for a three year contract, upping their royalty percentage, guaranteeing two albums. . . the usual deal. But the company had pushed back, "sales are dropping, " they'd claimed, displaying spreadsheets and graphs, "Their sound is stagnant. They need something new." The agent had protested, citing artistic integrity, the passion behind the music, but the execs hadn't cared, "A fresh perspective is in order." It's not about integrity, it's about sales, "Junpei." The agent had protested, knowing how the F3 despised the man. "Fine, we'll sign on with somebody else." There was no shortage of competing labels who'd be glad to take on the F4. But the label had pushed back, with threats. "Breach of contract." An argument seemingly built on air. . .Except that a good lawyer can make almost anything seem plausible. If the F4 refused to renew their contract, refused to agree to the dictated terms, they'd be socked with a hefty lawsuit for their past 'indiscretions.' "We'll fight it." Soujiro said at last.  
  
"Of course." Tsukasa's fists were already clenched, as if he intended to fight with his bare hands. There never was any question. The F4 was Tsukasa, Soujiro, Akira. . . And Rui. No one else. Never any one else. Certainly not a passionless little two-faced fuck like Junpei.  
  
"Dude." Soujiro broke into Tsukasa's reverie with an attempt to lighten the heavy mood, "That doesn't explain the house. How can We justify such expense when we have to get prepped to fight off the lawyers?"  
  
Tsukasa looked away, as if debating taking another drink. Finally, his eyes returned to solemnly regard Soujiro, "I'm tired of running away." He sighed, letting the exhaustion color his voice, as if, for once all the anger had leached away, leaving only a vast sense of enervation in its wake. But soon, like a rushing rip tide, the fury returned, "I'm sick of feeling like shit all the time! Sick of chasing around the country pouring my heart out for ignorant fans who don't understand what I feel! Sick of being chased by bimbos and whores! If I'm going to fight to keep us together, to keep us strong, I want a home! I want someplace to go back to! Someplace where we belong. Where we can be together. All of us! . . . to remind us who we are. . What we're a part of. . ." Tsukasa trailed off again, "To keep us strong. .."  
  
". . .because we only have each other." Soujiro nodded..  
  
"They can't take that away!"  
  
"They won't take it away." Soujiro reassured his friend, stretching out a soothing hand to calm Tsukasa's shaking one, to push the now-empty bottle away, to hold on to him, as they anchored each other into this harsh reality.  
  
They would fight. They would not yield. They would not bend. It remained to be seen, however, if they were yet brittle enough to be broken by the trials yet to come. They would make their music, sing their songs, try their hardest. But they would not compromise their souls, not for all the profits in the world.  
  
---------  
  
A few weeks later, the tour was finally over, the legal battle just beginning. The F3 had, after Akira and Soujiro's initial shock wore off, come to look forward to seeing exactly what sort of place Tsukasa had bought for them. It turned out to be a modest townhouse in what once was a popular and trendy neighborhood of the city. Now, the area wore the look of a place that has seen better times. The store fronts were worn and tired, the gloss faded from the buildings. Even the trees and ivy on the houses seemed twisted somehow, as if life had warped them; as if this small neighborhood was some how decivilizing itself, letting a hint of wildness back in to its unmanicured streets. It fitted the mood of the three men who moved in with their few belongings almost perfectly. They too had seen better days, they too knew what it felt like to see life lose its luster, its sparkle and polish. So it was like coming home.  
  
The first order of business, of course, not counting the ongoing legal dispute, was to se Rui. So, one brisk winter morning, the three men set off for Shadybrook, after calling to check on visiting hours.  
  
Akira was somewhat surprised to find, when they arrived, that this time, unlike the last, they didn't have to bribe the receptionist to let them by.  
  
"He's in the library," The woman said with a bright smile for the three handsome men arrayed before her, "But I'm afraid he's in session until eleven. So if you could just wait outside until they're done?"  
  
"Of course," Akira agreed with a cheerful smile, "Just point the way." It was almost eleven , anyway.  
  
The men wandered in the indicated direction, until they found themselves outside of a shut door, behind which, a raised voice could be heard.  
  
"Don't give me that bullshit! Doctor Guo might buy that crap, but I know you, Rui! Do you really think you can spout such a blatant lie and expect me to believe it?"  
  
A quiet murmur was the only response to this outburst.  
  
"Oh, I want to believe it, but I'm not an idiot!"  
  
Silence. Or at least words so quiet as to be inaudible  
  
"It always come back to that, doesn't it? You refuse to offer anything. It's all about You. Isn't it? You're so fucking selfish. Mr. Hanazawa. You make me sick!"  
  
"I don't care about other people's problems." The deadpan tone was definitely Rui's.  
  
"Oh, screw you! I know you don't. You've only made that glaringly obvious in every single conversation we've ever had. The point is, that you should! People care about you. The least you could do is return the favor. To wallow in self-pity and selfishness. . .it's wrong!"  
  
Again, the response was a low murmur.  
  
"I'm selfish? Of course I am. But at least my selfishness drives me to help others. I want to cure you."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Don't look at me like that. I know what you're saying behind those eyes. You don't want help. Blah, blah, blah. But it's a lie. You could refuse to talk to me at all. You could say nothing instead of the lies. You do that just to provoke me. Don't think I don't know it."  
  
"Such an ego, to think I care that much. Isn't our time up, Doctor? You've given me a headache."  
  
"You know you love our sessions." Tsukushi grinned cheekily at her morose patient. It may not have been the sort of therapy sessions she was trained to give, but sometimes these one sided arguments, almost like talking to herself, seemed to be the only thing that got through to him. Only her strident voice could cut through his defenses and make him react, lightening the sadness in those grey eyes for a few seconds, forcing him to admit that somewhere inside, his spirit still clung to life. And indeed, here was evidence in it's most pure form. . . unconsciously, Rui cracked a small smile at Tsukushi's assertion. Whether or not it was true, her energetic bravado was at least. . .amusing, if nothing more. And it was a measure of how much progress had actually been made, that Rui could now respond enough to the outside world to be amused.  
  
It was at that moment that Tsukasa chose to open the door and barge in on the scene, figuring as he did, that the conversation had reached its conclusion. (And also, being Tsukasa, impatient to se Rui again.)  
  
On hearing the noise at the door, Rui's small smile faltered and vanished, as did Tsukushi's victorious grin. Tsukushi's eyes darted to the tall figures standing there, then back to Rui. Hastily, she grabbed her notepad, folding it protectively to her chest, before addressing Rui as if there were no one else present.  
  
"See you next time, Rui. And if You're still lying to Dr. Guo by next week, I'm warning you, there's going to be hell to pay."  
  
But Rui's eyes had already turned opaque and cool. "Doctor." He called quietly, as Dr. Makino turned to leave, "You?" his eyes flicked questioningly towards the frozen trio at the doorway, as if to ask, "You gave them permission to return?"  
  
She gave a tight nod, and white-faced, brushed by the three men, her shoulders tensed, as if expecting an attack which never came. She might have allowed them visitation rights. . After all, they had been responsible for that violin. . .but that didn't mean she had to trust them; didn't mean she had to like them, or even see them. Ever.  
  
Back in the library, Akira and Soujiro rushed to bombard Rui with greetings and questions, While Tsukasa, still standing tensely at the door, gazed at the fast retreating back of the diminutive doctor. He'd caught the fading trace of Rui's smile as he'd burst into the room, seen the strange rapport between the unorthodox doctor and her recalcitrant charge; and he'd noticed the final exchange; the guarded look the doctor had sent him, the tenseness and defensive behavior contrasting oddly with the voluble woman who'd been ranting at Rui mere moments before. He'd understood, or thought he'd understood Rui's question and her answer, but what he couldn't understand was . . . Why? Why she should flee from them, as if he didn't exist, while at the same time granting them the visitation rights she'd previously revoked. It didn't make much sense, this apparent dichotomy, on her part, this excess of unprofessionalism. And it worried him, that Rui's care was in the hands of a doctor who might be just as troubled as her patients.  
  
With that ever-so cheerful thought, Tsukasa turned his own attention to his friends and their reunion.  
  
To be continued.  
  
~~~hmm. . . My brain is still fried from my impromptu vacation and its emotional repercussions. It was fun, I swear! (Though, this was the first time on a trip with the boy, that I didn't come home with fascinating new scars or brushes with death. So sad. I'm such an adrenaline junkie.) It was just very, very confusing. And weird. I wish real people were as easy to understand as fictional ones. Alas. As soon as I've finished playing catch- up at work, and finished convincing myself that nothing meant anything, I'll be able to stop obsessing with reality and get back to the business of writing this fic as it should be written. Whee!  
  
Responses to reviewers (whoa, its 3 am, I just got home, and now I'm doing this? Gah.)  
  
JUSTA READER: see, I updated. Just as soon as I could.  
  
KATHERINE: rui's just doing his thing, as usual. . .  
  
LIAN: thanks, I had a good trip. : )And the next chapter will be long, I swear.  
  
BLACKCAT: yeah, I like writing Soujiro. The manga never adequately explained (to me at least) just why he acts the way he does, so it's fun to try and figure out what possible motivations he has. (or maybe it was just, the translations I read were bad?). Sadly, Akira is harder to define as he never even got his own plot, and always seemed the most well-adjusted. Oh well. . .  
  
RUTH: well, I guess it's actually Saturday now. But I did try to have this done Friday night. Sorry for the delay, but I tried finishing the last chapter last week and was just too tired to write coherently, so I think the wait is for the best.  
  
YAN: thanks! And you guessed right. : )  
  
TOINKS:Thanks! (I really wanted my near death experiences too. Then I would've been writing like a madwoman the second I got back, and this might've been out Thursday. But I was denied, so this was delayed. So sorry!)  
  
SHEEN: Thank you so much! Your reviews always make me want to sit back down at the computer and start typing again,even when I really am supposed to be working. : ) It makes me very happy that you can get so wrapped up in their experiences. . . but I'm afraid I don't know how much longer I can go on meeting your expectations!!! Ack, I have to admit, I am intimidated by your high praise : ) but that doesn't mean I don't enjoy it. . . I'm such a review slut. . .  
  
(Sorry everyone for the short answers, but it really is past the time when I should be sleeping. . ) until next time ~cm~~~ 


	16. chapter 15 in which akira talks

Tsukushi was hard at work the next day, as usual, when she noticed a sudden and disturbing lack of nurses . . . and secretaries too, come to think about it. Well, ok, she amended mentally as she stalked towards the deserted nurses' station, there was one nurse left, but Charlie had his hands full dealing with some puking infant over in examining room one. Tsukushi sighed, and grit her teeth; this was no way to run an emergency room. Sure, there were few critically urgent cases today, but still, there was always paperwork to be dealt with, files to be checked. . . .What would people think if they knew that virtually the entire ER staff, (except of course, for the various overworked doctors scurrying from patient to patient,) could just disappear at once?  
  
Tsukushi sat down, and began updating her orders for her latest case. She hated dealing with psychotics this early in the morning. "More Haldol." She muttered to herself as she filled out the prescription, "Gods, if Mr. Smith doesn't stop ranting soon, I'm never going to get anything done." And then, there was Lucy, another teenage bulimic brought into the ER by her friends -- she'd get counseling and drugs. And Mrs. Anisky, who'd been brought, hyperventilating and shaking, in to the hospital by concerned co-workers after she finally collapsed from Post-Traumatic-Stress Syndrome after having survived a horrific traffic accident several weeks ago that had left ten others dead. Yeah, even when everyone else was off taking a coffee break or god only knows what, she was stuck here tending to society's walking wounded. She wouldn't have it any other way.  
  
"Hey, do you have a moment?"  
  
Tsukushi wheeled around, blinking as her eyes refocused from the tiny script in the case file in front of her to the source of the voice. Oh. She'd thought she'd recognized that voice. "No, Not really. As you can see, Mr. Mimasaka, I'm rather busy right now. If you could please excuse me?" She brushed a stray wisp of hair off her forehead and turned brusquely back to her notes.  
  
"Doctor Makino." Akira refused to leave, "I need to speak with you."  
  
"Make an appointment." Tsukushi scowled and bit the end of her pen, wishing he'd just go away.  
  
"I tried that. . . . The secretary said you'd specifically told her not to let me. . .us, in." He frowned slightly, as Tsukushi interrupted.  
  
"Perhaps that's because we have nothing to talk about."  
  
"What about Rui?"  
  
"Dr Guo and the others at Shadybrook know all there is to know about Rui's case. Why don't you go speak with them? They'd be happy to consult with you. . . I believe you have the number." Tsukushi pushed to her feet, as if she had urgent business to attend to.  
  
"Damn it Doctor!" Akira snapped, grabbing Tsukushi's shoulder, despite her tense flinch, "This is important! You have the answers that we need. Soujiro's out there now," He waved in the general direction of the waiting room, "flirting with every woman in sight, just so I can have this moment of privacy with you. Would you rather I had sent Tsukasa in my place?" He felt, rather than saw, Tsukushi's muscles tighten even more, "I thought not. I'm trying to be reasonable here, so at least have the decency to hear me out.  
  
"We heard you yesterday with Rui; you don't believe a word of what you just said. Tsukasa said he saw Rui smile while you were there! But the second we showed up, he closed up! Acted like he didn't want to notice us. I talked to Dr Guo afterwards. He said there had been progress, that Rui was almost ready to be discharged; that all he needed was another two weeks to taper off the methadone, and he'd be set. I found that hard to believe, given what we'd just seen, but he was adamant. He insisted that Rui was just unused to seeing people again, that he needed time to adjust. But doctor, that just doesn't sound right. Please, I don't know what we've done to anger you so, except for Tsukasa being Tsukasa, but we need to know the truth. How is he really? What can we do for him? Please talk to us, to me. . .for Rui?"  
  
Akira certainly knew how to persuade, how to calm, how to play the mediator. After all, he was always the one to step in between Tsukasa and Soujiro when they fought. So now, he could sense the change in Tsukushi's demeanor, and he knew that he'd won.  
  
Tsukushi irritably shook off the hand that rested on her shoulder, trying to make it look more like an annoyance than abhorrence of being touched.  
  
"Mr. Mimasaka," she sighed at last, turning back to face Akira, "Have a seat." She gestured back at the chairs they'd abandoned mere moments before. "Rui. . . Mr. Hanazawa. . . is difficult case, as I'm sure you can appreciate. Dr Guo does not trust my judgement where he is concerned," (Here she grimaced, recalling the flaming argument she'd had with the head of Shadybrook several weeks ago, wherein he'd denounced her unorthodox methods, her unprofessional demeanor, and her seeming inability to keep a proper emotional distance from her charge.) "Thus, you gain nothing from conferring with me. I have little power at Shadybrook; my opinions matter little. I repeat again, I am a mere resident here at city hospital. Dr Guo is a senior psychiatrist, renowned throughout the region. It is to him you should be speaking. Not me."  
  
"You're the one who found Rui for us, you helped us when we had no hope." Akira returned persuasively, "Though you don't trust us, we. . . I. . ." He amended, remembering Tsukasa's outburst the day before, after they'd returned to their new home, where he'd cursed out the diminutive doctor as an unstable, manipulative crank, who shouldn't be trusted to prescribe aspirin, much less tend to the mental health of the area's citizenry. ". . .Trust you. I want to hear your judgement."  
  
Tsukushi bit her pen again, as if trying to think of a polite way to phrase her thoughts, (or maybe, she was just thinking how to say her piece in the fewest words possible, so she could go back to avoiding this man and his friends. "Rui. . . Rui is. . . doing better." She temporized, "But what you have to realize, is that with most heroin addicts, there rarely is a full recovery. . . With heroin addicts, there are two treatment options. The first, is to keep them on a maintenance dose of methadone. This requires supervised visits to the methadone clinic, every day. The advantage of this, is that the methadone prevents the user from getting a rush from heroin. Unless, of course, he shoots up an incredibly large, and dangerous amount. The other disadvantage, is that the user has to be motivated enough to visit the clinic everyday. He has to want to stay clean. Option two, which you three insisted for Rui, is that the user is to be weaned off his dependency entirely. Physiologically, his body will no longer crave opiates. The therapy sessions at the center are intended to eliminate his emotional dependency, as well. The problem, you see. . . with Rui, is that I don't believe they Have done enough to control his desire for the drug. If they were to discharge him tomorrow, or in two weeks, on his own recognizance, I can assure you, that sooner or later, he will be back on the street shooting up."  
  
Akira shot her an alarmed look. This was exactly what he didn't want to hear. Remorselessly, Tsukushi continued. "I don't mean immediately, but still. Mr. Hanazawa is still standing on the brink, balanced between his determination to die, and his reawakening spirit's love for life. But all it takes is one slip, one bad day, and the scales can tilt irrevocably." She shook her head,  
  
"I wish I could be more optimistic, but the statistics for this sort of thing are pretty bad to begin with, and Rui. . . Mr. Hanazawa, is very determined Not to recover. He's very good at lying to the other therapists, good at keeping the true him hidden. . . Not that I blame Dr Guo for falling for the lie. . . We all want to believe so badly, that our patients are healing, that sometimes we let hope get in the way of reality. . . " Dr. Makino trailed off, as if aware that she was rambling. Suddenly her eyes snapped back into focus. As she started intently at Akira, "You want to keep him alive? You have to be there, every second of every day! You have to make him want to live again! Make him want to feel! You have to challenge him, destroy the comfortably numb lie he's built for himself!"  
  
Tsukushi sat back again, as her eyes dulled, aware that she might've said too much. More bitterly, she continued, "But that's just my opinion. Dr Guo thinks I'm full of shit." It was apparent to Akira that she'd forgotten to whom she was talking entirely. Really she was just speaking to herself, as her stare unfocused and seemed to sink inward.  
  
Akira sighed. He'd sort of expected as much, given the meeting with Rui yesterday. But that didn't mean he wanted to hear as much from a medical professional.  
  
"Thank you, doctor." He said finally, in a weary tone, "You've been most helpful."  
  
Tsukushi merely gave a curt nod in acknowledgement, as she watched him stand to leave. "The violin. . ." she muttered to his back, ". . . get him to play for you. . ."  
  
Akira nodded, "Music is the only thing that keeps us going."  
  
"That, or our responsibilities to others." But this response was all in her head. Or was it in his as well?  
  
It was just as well that Soujiro chose this moment to wander into the ER, followed by the horde of missing nurses and secretaries.  
  
"Akira, save me!" He moaned, "They're all so wonderful. . . So tell me. . .whom do I choose?" His coterie giggled, while Tsukushi frowned disgustedly. And this was the man whom her roommate hadn't stopped obsessing about for months? Geez!  
  
"Why not ask the good doctor, here?" Akira teased good-naturedly, oblivious to the tight-lipped frown Tsukushi wore.  
  
"Oh! Good idea!" Soujiro smiled. He'd recently gotten tired of his blonde fetish, and had decided, if they were going to be spending a lot of time with Rui at the clinic or hospital, that it'd be interesting to develop a medical kink for the next few months. Even now, he was fantasizing about one of the hot nurses he'd been flirting with so recently, dressed in nothing but a stethoscope around her neck. Happily, he patted his pocket wherein resided a neat list of pager numbers and names. . ."Doctor Makino, Which of your lovely co-workers should I ask out tonight?"  
  
"Dude, That wasn't what I meant." Akira scolded, his grin belying the serious tone he adopted.  
  
"Oh, shit. You're right." Soujiro laughed, and turned to Tsukushi, "Doctor Makino, In recognition of your efforts to help my best friend, would you allow me to take you out to dinner tonight?" He smiled winningly over at the doctor, who was having none of it.  
  
"No."  
  
"Ooh. That was harsh." Akira commented sotto voce.  
  
"Tomorrow?"  
  
"Mr. Nishikado, I don't think this is appropriate."  
  
"What? I'm not your patient. Besides, we'd like to get to know you better. After all, we have entrusted Rui's life to your hands." Soujiro wheedled a bit, watching intently as Tsukushi's eyes narrowed in suspicion. She suspected she was being toyed with, and she didn't like it one bit.  
  
"Mr. Nishikado. I'm afraid I really don't have the time, or the inclination to play games with you. If you'll excuse me, I have patients to see." She spun on her heel and stalked away, only half hearing Soujiro's final rejoinder,  
  
"Great, I'll pick you up Friday, then?" When Tsukushi didn't respond, Soujiro turned to Akira and murmured. "I don't think she likes me very much." (He hated the idea of being so disliked,) "Why am I doing this again?"  
  
"To find out why she doesn't like us." Akira replied absentmindedly as they headed for the exit.  
  
"You could do that." Soujiro pouted, "Besides, She's not very attractive. Why can't I hit on someone cute. . .Like that Cindy chick? " (He was referring to the nurse he'd been fantasizing about previously).  
  
"Dude, It's one night. One night. All you have to do is talk to her. Besides, I bet the good doctor is a little hottie beneath those depressing clothes."  
  
"You have so got to be kidding me," Soujiro sighed, trying to imagine what Tsukushi looked like without her drab blouse and skirt combination. . . what luscious flesh might lurk tantalizingly beneath that starchy white coat of hers. Hmm . . .Maybe Akira had a point. But what were the chances of him getting close enough to the uptight little doctor to find out?  
  
To be continued. . .  
  
~~ooh. . .I'm sorry, my pedantic tendencies seem to have gotten the better of me again. . . ~cm~~ 


	17. chapter 16 in which soujiro propositions

~~plot? You want plot? Well, I ain't got one for you. But I'm all angsted up and depressed tonight, so here's a nice dose of backstory. (and again, apologies for slow updates, but I been obsessing about reality again recently. Real people are such a bloody pain in the brain).~~  
  
Tsukasa was furious. Again. Sometimes one had to wonder if he actually ever existed in any other state. The house just wasn't safe when he was in one of these moods, but sometimes he just had to be faced. Akira winced at the sound of shattering crockery as he hesitantly poked his head into their small kitchen.  
  
"Umm. . . Tsukasa?"  
  
"You fuckhead! What the hell were you thinking?" Tsukasa snarled as he hurled another bowl against the far wall, its broken remains crashing to join its brethren on the floor.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Don't even start! You know what I mean. Soujiro!."  
  
"Oh. . ." Akira paused. Yes. That. "Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time."  
  
"Get him back here!"  
  
Akira glanced at his watch, "Err. . .Umm. . It's a bit too late for that."  
  
"You goddamned dumbfucks!" Tsukasa screamed and picked up another bowl.  
  
"Tsukasa! wait! I just. . . bought that." Akira sagged in defeat as the last of his new dining set shattered into a million pieces.  
  
It was Friday. Tsukasa had been fuming ever since Soujiro had accidentally let slip, just an hour previously, that he was, on Akira's command, off to seduce Dr. Makino. And obviously, this did not please Tsukasa. Life was already complicated enough without getting involved with Rui's shrink. Assuming, of course, that she was even foolish enough in the first place to fall for Soujiro's seductive charms. Tsukasa wasn't convinced of that. Personally, he thought the doctor was far too uptight for such foolishness. But he was far more worried about the impact Soujiro's actions might have on their already strained relationship with the woman. She was obviously psycho. But she seemed to be having an effect on Rui. Perhaps that was because he could relate, somehow, to her own issues, whatever they might be. Really, Tsukasa didn't know, nor did he much care. All he wanted at this moment, was for the damned woman to do her job and return their Rui to them as good as new, so that he could take his rightful place among them and bring to them the peace and unity they needed. And OK, so maybe it was a little optimistic, and maybe Tsukasa failed to take into account other factors, like his own alcoholism, or Soujiro's co-dependency issues, or Junpei and that damned lawsuit, but still. It was a dream. It was his dream. One that couldn't be made real unless the doctor did her job. Who knew what might push her over the edge into total non-cooperation? She already seemed so close to the brink, her deliberate cold-shoulder and terse communiqués telling them, plain as day, that she wanted nothing to do with their problems.  
  
It infuriated him, it truly did. How could this chick be so concerned with Rui, but ignore the damage suffered by his friends? Weren't they a unit? Didn't they all deserve attention? Care? Healing? He thought so. And he wanted to scream this at the Doctor; to force her to see that by refusing to talk to them, refusing to meet, refusing to understand and accept them for what they were, the way she had accepted Rui, she made it impossible for any of them, even Rui, to ever recover fully?  
  
But yelling at her, shaking her, forcing her to look at their naked pain . . . it wouldn't work. Tsukasa knew that; knew that his approach had already hurt their cause. But he wasn't convinced that Akira's was any better. . .  
  
It didn't matter, now, though. What was done was done. All they could do was wait and see what Soujiro turned up in his explorations. . .  
  
----  
  
Soujiro approached the matter stealthily, at first. He'd rapidly become familiar with the hospital and its layout in the past few days, as he'd Casanovaed his way through the host of females working here. And so, instead of immediately approaching Dr. Makino -- whom he was sure had forgotten or chosen to disbelieve their appointment -- he lurked for a small while, watching her attend to her patients, striving with greedy ears to hear murmured conversations behind closed doors. It wasn't easy, but he needed to get a feel for her mood, for her 'normal' affect when she wasn't dealing with them. He wasn't sure he truly succeeded, but he'd sure as hell find out in a few minutes.  
  
It was show time.  
  
Soujiro hummed a small tune to himself, as he made his way to the break room where his prey had momentarily slipped off to. Even the little doctor couldn't be uptight all the time? Right?  
  
"Knock-knock."  
  
"Huh?" Tsukushi looked up from her seat. She was exhausted again; she had a pounding headache, and a full night's work ahead of her. She needed quiet time, a full cup of strong coffee and a handful of aspirin to clear her head. What she didn't need was the sight of Mr. Soujiro Nishikado lounging insouciantly in the doorway, grinning charmingly at her. Confused, Tsukushi glanced behind her, sure there had to be someone else in the room. She'd overheard the nurses' gossip this week, she knew the devilishly-handsome lady-killer before her had been making the rounds of the women here, so surely, he must be speaking to someone else? Anne perhaps? Or Tina?  
  
Nope. Not a chance. The room was empty save for herself and te man in the doorway.  
  
"Heya, doc. Ready for dinner?"  
  
Tsukushi gaped blankly. Her? What?  
  
"Oh come on, don't tell me you forgot our date? I'm crushed!" Not that he was actually surprised or anything.  
  
Tsukushi blinked; thought; recovered her poise, "You shouldn't make assumptions, Mr Nishikado, I have work to do." Obviously, she wasn't going to get a chance to finish her coffee, after all. Tiredly, she climbed to her feet and brushed by him. "I think Sonja," (one of the interns), "gets off at six tonight. She was asking after you, why don't you go harass her?" she asked coolly as she passed him.  
  
"But doc. . ." Soujiro hurried after her, protesting vigorously. Akira was going to kill him if he couldn't even get past her preliminary defenses.  
  
"But what?" Tsukushi stopped dead in her tracks and turned to face him, anger burning intensely in her eyes. "This behavior of yours is inappropriate! Leave me alone! Isn't it enough that I do my job? Isn't it enough that I devote my life to taking care of people? What right do you have to harass me in my private life as well? If you have a problem with the way I work, you can take it up with the head of the department, but stop following me! I don't want to talk to you, I don't want to eat dinner with you! Ever! Is that clear?" Pushing away unwanted attention as hard as she could. Tsukushi didn't trust the man standing before her, didn't trust that friendly grin, that impulsive physicality. He acted harmless enough, but she'd long known better. Those who seem the most innocent merely hide their lies the best.  
  
Soujiro shrugged, as if disappointed by her brief rant, but then his eyes lit up, a gleam of mischief twinkling their darkened depths. ". . How about sex?"  
  
"Excuse me?" Tsukushi twitched in disbelief.  
  
"No dinner, no conversation. . . You didn't say no sex." Hell, why not? It was worth a try, right? Maybe she would like him better if he could communicate without words. Maybe she would understand the spiritual revitalization of fleshly passion. If she understood that, understood him better-- maybe she wouldn't keep pushing them away?  
  
Tsukushi blinked. Well that was certainly blunt. "Why?" the single syllable slipped out before she could stop herself.  
  
Soujiro shrugged. That one was easy. "It feels good."  
  
"So?" Tsukushi was unmoved. She'd have had to be an idiot, and deaf besides, to have missed the hospital gossip about Mr. Nishikado and his recent conquests. . . not to mention the fat that he Was a rock star. He could have had any woman he wanted, so why was he pursuing her, now? It had to be part of some twisted game. . .Somewhere in the back of her mind, a paranoid little voice noted that this was just the sort of fucked-up little scenario that Junpei might engineer, just to watch her squirm. That bastard. For a second she felt herself near the edge, close to snapping again. But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Wouldn't give Anyone the satisfaction of watching her break. Wouldn't even give any of them the slightest hint she was onto them.  
  
"So?" Soujiro repeated, genuinely confused. What more reason did one need? "You look like you could use something that feels good."  
  
It was the same tone of voice Jun had used, all those years ago, when he'd first approached her in the college student center. "You look like you could use a friend," he'd said. She'd had friends then; Kazuya, Makiko, Asako, and all the others. But then Jun had appeared; a year younger than her, majoring in music studies, while she tooled away in biology. Sure, she'd had her friends, but none that she'd really connected with; none that she could fall in love with. She'd been young and impressionable then, and she so wanted to fall in love. Jun hadn't seemed like that sort of person at first either-- not the sort of person she could fall for. He was just another friend. A bit of a goofball, really, boyish and silly. But he'd attached himself to her like a leech, and slowly, so slowly that she hadn't understood it at first, she'd begun to lose her other friends. She hadn't grasped why they drifted away, without a word, until the conversations she'd over heard one day; their spiteful gossip and lies. Words she'd never said claimed as fact. But that was the nature of cliques. That was the nature of college. And Jun had stood by her, told her that he was there for her, that she could trust him, when all else had abandoned her.  
  
And she had. Trusted him, that is.  
  
He was her best friend. Her only friend. But only that.  
  
. . .Until one cold winter's night. They'd been up late studying together in her room, as they were wont to do, when Junpei had turned to her a strange fire in his eyes, and kissed her. "Be my girlfriend." He'd pled, when they'd pulled apart. And young, innocent, romantic Tsukushi had agreed. It had been her first kiss, after all. But she hadn't been ready for the full physical reality that Jun thought a relationship should entail. Kissing was fine. . but sex? No, No, No!  
  
Jun had been patient at first, or so he seemed. But Tsukushi became more and more isolated from her acquaintances, her classmates. It was as if Jun was trying to take control of her life. When she was sad or happy, excited or depressed, she had no one to turn to but him. No one to seek advice from, but him. She never realized how it had been Jun who had spread malicious gossip to her friends until they'd drifted away from her, Jun who had threatened and intimidated the others, until one day, she ran in to the person who had once been her oldest friend: Kazuya.  
  
He'd been nervous when she'd cautiously said hello, kept looking over her shoulder as if he were in danger. And when she asked why, when she' shaken him and tearfully demanded to know why he never called anymore. . . he'd broken down and admitted that Jun had beat him up, and ordered him to stay away from her, not wanting any competition for Tsukushi's affections, it seemed. Tsukushi hadn't wanted to believe it. Couldn't believe it. Jun wasn't a violent person, nor was he the manipulative psycho that Kazuya implied. But she'd confronted Jun that night, anyway, needing to know the truth.  
  
The truth shocked her even more. Jun had hit her, knocked her down, ranting that he wouldn't have had to do it if she'd been more cooperative. He claimed to have approached her over a bet, spurred on by the cold-hearted urge to show up one of his friends (a boy who apparently had had a crush on Tsukushi from afar for some time.) But she hadn't succumbed to his charms, hadn't spread her legs like she should have. So he'd had to go further. . . All for a bet, he claimed, in his rage. And he'd lashed out at her, taking, at last, what he considered to be his by right. Not that Tsukushi didn't put up a fight, biting and kicking and scratching. But he'd been too strong. Afterwards, he'd stared, aghast, at what he'd done; at the bruised, abused, and crying girl lying on the floor, and tried to comfort her, to soothe her. And then, he'd admitted the other truth that would continue to haunt him forever-- that he truly had come to love her.  
  
But by then it was too late. Tsukushi had never been the type to air out her problems in public, right as that course of action might be, and so she never went to the police, never admitted to anyone what had happened between herself and her erstwhile boyfriend. She'd tried to forget and tried to forgive, but it wasn't that easy. She buried herself in her classwork instead, working like a maniac; school consumed her, became her existence. It seemed only logical that she would go to medical school where she could continue her single-minded devotion to work. And somehow, it had seemed only natural for her to drift into psychiatry, her natural affinity for other damaged souls making her effective at what she did, and even more passionate about making sure no one else ever felt as miserable and alone as she had.  
  
Still. . . She'd never learned to trust again, never put her faith in the innate goodness of people. Kindness was highly suspect, as you never knew what hidden motives could lurk behind a friendly face. And violence, too, still brought back painful memories of her own helplessness. So Tsukushi trusted no one, except herself.  
  
This was not to say that she abandoned the relationship game entirely, it was just that those she had were brief and superficial -- no more than flings. There had been two, in all those year after Junpei, just two. Both in medical school, and no one could have been more different than these. The first, Amon Kunisawa, had been a fourth year med student, when she was in her first. He was planning on entering surgery, with all the arrogance and ego that future surgeons tended to have. Confident in himself, he'd pursued her straight-forwardly, making no secret of the fact that he could see through her antagonistic mask to the hurt little girl beneath. And he boldly made the claim that he'd be good therapy for her, help her work through her foolish fears. Well, she'd agreed to give it a shot. But something was missing. Love. The whole thing felt wrong, and Tsukushi had never managed to enjoy sex with him quite the way she felt she should. The repressed romantic buried deep inside her heart told her a relationship should be more than shallow exteriors and the flailing of naked bodies. But she couldn't give him her heart, and he didn't believe in love, merely in the fulfillment of his ego. And so, she had ended it.  
  
Her next attempt at romance had been two years later, when one of the second years bumped into her on the wards one day. Kin was a ridiculously sweet boy, and somehow he managed to fall head over heels in love with Tsukushi, despite her prickly exterior and repeated attempts to push him away. He was so enthusiastic, so overwhelmingly good-natured and helpful, that Tsukushi found herself unable to ignore his attempts to get her attention. So she'd given him a chance. And though eventually she'd found herself wanting to trust him, wanting to give him her heart. . she just couldn't do it. (His jealous ex-girlfriend hadn't simplified the matter any, either.) In the end, she'd had to end this relationship, as well. Kin had been sad, but understanding. Last she'd heard, he'd gone into pediatrics and married his ex, so perhaps that was all for the best, anyway.  
  
And that had been it. Her very limited experience with men, none of it fulfilling or particularly good, and here was one of Junpei's bandmates, almost a crony, trying to convince her that she should have sex with him because 'it felt good.'  
  
Hah!  
  
Tsukushi would have laughed if she hadn't been afraid that it might sound more like a sob. Her attention snapped back to reality as she focused on the man still standing expectantly in front of her. Sure, she could use something that felt good. But sex had never fit that category for her. Sure, physically, it was fine, she supposed, but emotionally. . . there was just too much baggage. No, the only thing that felt good was the knowledge that she was doing good in the world, that people needed her, that she had the power to heal. . .  
  
But, standing there staring at the almost pleading look in Soujiro's expression, the need and the pain behind the pleasant mask, she remembered. . .Listening to this man, and his friends, perform, letting their sound wash over her like waves -- catharsis in a wall of anguished sound-- that too had felt good. If they had managed to produce such release in that medium, what else might they be capable of?  
  
And, despite her paranoia, her caution, her common sense, Tsukushi found herself wavering, wondering, if it was possible. . . what might it be like. . . Something that felt good?  
  
Could it really be that uncomplicated?  
  
To be continued.  
  
~~bah. I need three hands and eyes on stalks so I can eat, type, and work the mouse at the same time. A mouse designed to be ergonomically correct for feet would be an acceptable substitute, though. I gotta get me a geek to build one for me. Prehensile toes would be ok too. ~cm ~~ 


	18. chapter 17 in which tsukushi says no

~~~Well shit. Looks like I lied on several counts. A) didn't finish idiots by the end of the month. B) working on this before that. Oh well. Another disjointed chapter ensues as I try to work myself back into hyd mode, instead of hunt mode-of-thought. Try to bear with me. I've been out of my mind recently, but with a little luck and time, and focus, I'll actually start putting chapters (and hopefully more coherent ones, at that) out on a more regular basis. Let's all keep our fingers crossed, shall we?~~~  
  
No.  
  
Tsukushi blinked. It couldn't. Her frown hardened, her expression brittle. Nothing ever had been simple. Nothing Ever could be. Life wasn't simple. You could try and try to analyze it, to reduce it, to distill and extract it, yet still. . .no matter how you tried, it was bound to be complicated. A difficult stew of emotion and memory. Expectation and disillusionment.  
  
Music wasn't the same as actual, real, human interaction. You couldn't trust appearances. You couldn't trust words. She knew that. Had had it savagely beaten into her. Never again would she trust that lie. Couldn't trust the manipulation that went on underneath a kind and harmless exterior. She would not succumb to a moment's foolish temptation, to the desire for something different, something simple, something full of comforting pseudo-intimacy. For foolish was all it was. And she would not surrender to such foolishness, no matter that all other women around her seemed to have already fallen before it, with legs wide open.  
  
She blinked again, once, twice, trying to refocus on the man standing before her. Mr. Nishikado stood there, regarding her expectantly, almost hopefully, patiently awaiting her reply. As he watched the interplay of emotions washing over her features, he might have been tempted to hope that his proposition stood a chance. But he would have been sadly mistaken to get his hopes up. Indeed, Tsukushi opened her mouth as if to speak, paused, then closed it again, as her shoulders slumped in something akin to defeat.  
  
Soujiro could do nothing but watch as the diminutive doctor shrugged once, then turned and walked wordlessly away. He had never been rejected quite like hat before, and he found that he didn't quite know what to do. Should he pursue her? Obviously his simple, (and harmless) invitation had sparked something unpleasant within her. . . and what that might be, could be just the information Akira wanted him to find out about the doctor. On the other hand, she really, really didn't seem to like him. On the Other other hand, he couldn't stand rejection. It made him feel. . . . so cold, so. . .unnecessary. . . it was more than just a blow to his masculine pride. More like, he felt crushed, abandoned, when all he wanted was a little help, a little moment of mutual bliss. Such a small thing to mean so much. By that token, he should pursue her. But then again, she wasn't his type. . .  
  
Soujiro wasn't exactly the sort to make decisions easily. So it was usually a good thing that others often came along who would make his decisions for him. In this instance, that need was served by a curvaceous intern, who, quite literally, bumped into him as she was hurrying from one patient to the next. . . And so, for a time, in the privacy of the intern's call room, Soujiro found himself pleasantly distracted from the task at hand. Meanwhile, in another part of the hospital, Tsukushi busied herself with tending to her charges, and trying to push thoughts of the past back out of her conscious mind. What was done was done, she insisted to herself, and there's no sense wasting time dwelling on her problems when, to her at least, they seemed so much more insignificant than those of her patients. After all, she was functional, right? She held a job, and a productive life, right? She was making a positive difference in the world, no one could deny that.  
  
So what did it matter, that, as she could admit to herself only in rare moments of personal honesty, she was desperately lonely, and as unhappy as hell?  
  
-----------  
  
Tsukasa peered sulkily at the computer screen, a bottle of whisky at his left hand, and a cup of steaming hot black tea in his right.  
  
"Damnit! Fucking bullshit!" he slammed the computer shut and furiously took a swig from the bottle on his left, followed by a sip of the tea on his right.  
  
"Ah, double-fisting again?" Soujiro strode into the room, as if he hadn't been engaged in a screaming match with Tsukasa mere hours ago  
  
"You're back."  
  
:"Obviously."  
  
"So?" Tsukasa's tone was decidedly frosty. He didn't even bother to turn around as Soujiro plonked himself down on a sofa behind him. It was obvious what Tsukasa was asking in his own monosyllabic way.  
  
:Soujiro shrugged half-heartedly, not really willing to admit that he'd gotten exactly nowhere with Dr Makino. "Enh." he admitted at last, "There was this intern, and well. . ."  
  
"You got distracted?"  
  
"Well, kinda. . ." Soujiro admitted sheepishly, glad that Tsukasa bought the lie, as the chill atmosphere seemed to warm a fraction of a degree.  
  
"Idiot." But there was no anger in the insult. Tsukasa knew, rationally, that he really shouldn't care so much what Soujiro did or didn't do with the unfriendly doctor. But, there was Rui to think of, and well. . . Something. . . bothered him about their interactions with Dr Makino. He didn't like her -- how could you like someone so distant and unfriendly, so unapproachable. . . but she'd done, or tried to do, so much for Rui. . .And then, those flashes of passion, those over heard moments with Rui, the occasions when her mask slipped for a few moments. He couldn't articulate what it was he thought, or why Akira's plan bothered him so much, unless it was that he somehow could feel some form of kindred pain emanating from her, an echo of what they all felt? It didn't matter. He didn't care. Or so he told himself as his attention returned to Soujiro's rejoinder.  
  
"Yeah, man. But this intern chick was way hot. Even you would have to agree."  
  
"Yeah right." Tsukasa snorted and took another mouthful of whisky.  
  
"So what were you yelling at when I got in? You looked like you were just about ready to throw your laptop through the wall."  
  
"Oh." Tsukasa waved a dismissive hand, "Contract shit."  
  
"What? Isn't that what our lawyer is for?" Soujiro was fully convinced that all the shitwork of their contract dispute was best left to the professionals. His job was making music. Bad enough that Tsukasa didn't trust outsiders to deal with their finances, hence saddling him with that responsibility, but still. They were musicians, and all this legal crap was what he paid [hefty sums of money to] the goddamned lawyers for. Tsukasa shouldn't be wasting his time with it anymore than he had to, And especially not on a Friday night!  
  
"Fucker said he charged triple for Friday nights. Blood-sucking leeches."  
  
"Why the hell are you doing this on a Friday, anyway?" Soujiro sighed in exasperation, "it's almost midnight!"  
  
"Got a call from Allen."  
  
"So?" Allen was an old friend of the band. He'd gone to school with them, then formed his own band, but when that went belly-up, he'd decided to buy a club instead of trying to make it in the music business. He now owned and ran one of the hottest nightspots in this city (though why he'd decided to settle in a city that was as cold, grey, and unfriendly as this, was a mystery that none of the F4 had ever understood.).  
  
"So, he heard we moved to town, and invited us to come play as the Asgard (the name of his club).  
  
"Really, when?" Soujiro perked up. They needed to practice, but more to the point, they needed to perform, to feel the cathartic rush of emotion and pain, the roar of the crowd, the roar of their instruments, bleeding, shredding their pain until, for a few moments, it dissipated like smoke in the air. It had been too long since their last performance; too long since they'd even had the energy, the cohesion, to just sit around and jam. And, without their bass player, it was harder than ever to practice, anyway. Tsukasa had to sing and play. . . and, to put it mildly, his skill on a stringed instrument was sadly lacking compared to his ability with percussion and voice.  
  
"Next week." Tsukasa shrugged slightly.  
  
"Dude! Cool." Soujiro, when excited, had a tendency to sound years younger than he truly was.  
  
"Not cool." Tsukasa flicked open the laptop once more, "Moron. Look at this."  
  
"You know I don't read legalese" Soujiro protested, scanning the document.  
  
"Dumbass. Look." Tsukasa tapped at the screen, "This is our contract. you know, the one we're getting sued for breach of. Now, while they're suing us, it'd be really fucking stupid to go and do something that actually was against the rules, yes?"  
  
"Err. Yeah. . . what's your point?"  
  
"The point, you fuckhead, is that it says right here that we're not allowed to perform in unapproved venues. Apparently, the label somehow sneaked this shit in here last time. I mean look at this crap! . . Only perform in the venue of their choice? What the fuck? And look at this; here it says, essentially, that we can't even use our own music!"  
  
"The fuck?"  
  
"Yeah." Tsukasa took another gulp of whiskey and started getting really worked up. "It's all in these fucking sub-clauses, all this bullshit fine print. Normally, it'd never come up, but these are basically all punishment clauses for when we're in dispute with the label."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Are you understanding a word I'm saying? It's like this. There's this subsection here, that talks about the sort of restrictions we're placed under when we're fighting with the company."  
  
"How the hell did we agree to that?"  
  
Tsukasa shrugged furiously, "Fuck if I know. I'm firing our agent first thing Monday. He assured me when we signed this thing years ago that everything was in order, that it was a standard contract. But I've been reading it, and it's so not the industry norm."  
  
"So we've been fucked over?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"What can we do about it?"  
  
"Well," Tsukasa heaved a deep breath, as he tried to remain calm. Dealing with shit like this pissed him off more than anything, and to find out that they'd been so stupid for so long, trusting the label like a bunch of ignorant fools straight from the boonies. God it made him angry, and all he really wanted to do was smash this bottle over their manager's head, and those of all the fucking suits, then stab them repeatedly with the broken glass. But He couldn't do any of that, so instead, he merely took another steadying sip of whisky and one of tea, and turned to Soujiro. "First, We win this fucking lawsuit, and never work for these bastards again."  
  
"Ok, sure, but in the meantime, what can we do?" There was a hint of desperation in Soujiro's voice, a desperation seemingly excessive for the situation. . but only until one remembered that these men lived for their music -- the only thing besides each other that truly helped them get through each long and weary day.  
  
"We can find loopholes." Tsukasa growled. Nobody was going to keep him from performing, no matter how they tried, "If we do it for free, they can't claim jurisdiction over venue, because we're not working. And, if we don't do any of our current songs, they can't get us on that."  
  
"I'm not playing some other fucker's music. We're not a cover band." Soujiro protested.  
  
"Never said we were." Tsukasa paused, as if waiting for Soujiro to read his mind. In the meantime, he took another comforting gulp of whiskey, letting its fiery heat warm his insides against the cold sense of foreboding that had been plaguing him all evening.  
  
"So? What are we doing then?" Soujiro exclaimed at last, frustrated with Tsukasa's mind games.  
  
"Writing something new."  
  
To be continued.  
  
~~~Well,3 hrs to spew out 1800 wds, that's not that bad, I guess. Even if they do make little sense. And hey! What happened to that sex scene I was going to write? the one where Tsukushi and Soujiro had really bad, unfulfilling sex? guess I lose that one to the "stay in character* demons. Wish I knew where they'd wandered off to by the time I got to the end of the chapter. A verbal Tsukasa who actually uses the correct words for things? Inconceivable! Fuck it. These things happen (actually, the first part of this chapter came out the way it did to a series of long and tedious arguments about "warm body syndrome" and the implications of intimacy, or lack thereof of sex vs cuddling. And then there was that half- hour trapped on the bus getting ranted at by a delusional alcoholic, that reminded me I should try to update in the first place. . ) hmm.. Next time: Plot development! What a concept! 


	19. chapter 18 in which tsukasa writes

~~shit shit shit and damn.~~~  
  
Tsukasa glared at the blank page on the table before him. His eyes were strained and sore, and his right eyelid had developed an obnoxiously vision- blurring tic. It was well after four AM. Tsukasa's pot of tea had long since grown cold, and his bottle of whiskey was more than three-quarters empty, which might account for the trembling unsteadiness of his fingers as he wrote a few words, paused, scribbled them out, stared a few moments more, then, in one swift movement crumpled the paper up tightly and flung it into the trash.  
  
"Come on, Tsukasa." Akira pled wearily from the doorway, "Why don't you come to bed? It's late. You can work on this tomorrow."  
  
"No." Tsukasa lifted bloodshot eyes to regard his friend. This was something that just had to be done. If only he could find the words.  
  
"Fine then." Akira shrugged in defeat. "Soujiro and I will be upstairs. . . Why don't you try to write the melody first? You've got a mood, right? Work on that, we'll do lyrics tomorrow." He knew, that for all this business as lead singer and front man, Tsukasa was not exactly the most verbally gifted man on the planet.  
  
But Tsukasa was also stubborn. And tonight, he was determined to create this piece all on his own. And so, as Akira slipped away to his waiting bed, Tsukasa turned once more to the task at hand.  
  
Tsukasa's fingers drummed irritably along the table, his feet tapping out a complimentary rhythm as his tired brain wandered. To play for an audience, he had to provide new music. New music required new inspiration. He couldn't -- didn't want-- to write about the past again. It would be too much, too derivative of their previous albums. Their personal tragedy. The single defining moment of their lives thus far. Yes, all they did reflected that, fed off that, revolved around it. . . but now, it seemed, it was no longer enough. Now. . . Now where the sounds of his pain had once flowed so freely, so inspired by memory and despair, now they refused to be set free. He felt as though his muse was muted, tongue-tied by unexpected emotions flowing through him.  
  
Hope. Hope for the future. Hope for Rui. Hope for change. For something new.  
  
Fear. Fear that Rui could not be saved. Fear that he could not be saved from his own mental prison.  
  
Worry. That he was not doing the right thing. That Akira and Soujiro with their irresponsible behavior might somehow hurt all of their chances for salvation.  
  
Loneliness. Was he always to be alone, just himself and the bottle?  
  
Disappointment. That the F4 seemed no better off than they had been a year ago. That no one seemed to understand them. Understand him. And here, he felt an unexpected flash, a brief recollection of Dr. Makino, a strange disappointment that she refused to understand them, despite all their varied efforts. If she could care for Rui, why couldn't she do the same for them? For Him?  
  
This thought could not be borne long, and Tsukasa quickly repressed it, forcibly dragging his attention back to the paper before him, and what he had written on it in his moment of inattention.  
  
Hmm. . . Not as bad as it could have been. Absently he hummed a brief melody. Frowned. Shook his head. Tried again. Almost. . . almost but not quite. If only he could concentrate, he just knew the words were there, lurking just out of reach. . .  
  
Suddenly, in a seeming fit of frustration at his inability to get even one simple chorus right, Tsukasa leapt up and flung his fist through the thin plaster of the wall. Paint, plaster dust and wood splinters rained down, while Tsukasa stared almost wonderingly at the splinters embedded in his knuckles; the blood dripping down his wrist. He breathed deeply as the pain began to penetrate. Physical pain to wash away distraction. Physical pain to help him concentrate. It wasn't long before the shrill ache of lacerated flesh cut through the dumbing, numbing effects of the alcohol that permeated his system. . . slowly at first, then with more and more confidence that he was doing the right thing, Tsukasa began to write, hardly noticing the trickles and drips of blood that smeared across the pages along with the inspired words and notes.  
  
~~~  
  
"Good god, man! What the hell did you do to the house?"  
  
Tsukasa blinked blearily awake as Akira leaned over him to examine the scattered pages on the table. ". . . had to be done." was his muttered reply.  
  
"Christ you stink." Akira wrinkled his nose in disgust. "How much did you drink last night? And putting your hand through the wall? We just got that repainted! I bet you were too drunk to even make it to your own bed without keeling over. You're pathetic."  
  
"Fuck off." Tsukasa snarled. Sure, Akira was right in general. But in this particular instance, he was so far off the mark. . . "Sanctimonious asshole, and what have you done for us recently? I spent all night working my ass off for the group and all you can do is insult me? Well Fuck you too. I don't need this kind of shit! I'm leaving!" Yeah, he was overreacting just a bit, but he was entitled. Here he was, exhausted, both creatively and physically, and Akira had the gall to insult him without even asking what he'd written? "May as well just tear this up now, since you so obviously don't give a shit!" So saying, he grabbed at the sheaf of papers that littered the table and began to shred it.  
  
"Calm down!" Akira grimaced in exasperation. He hated when Tsukasa got like this. There was just no reasoning with the man. So, instead of continuing a pointless discussion he just turned and walked away. A few minutes later, he heard the sound of the front door slamming shut, as Tsukasa went out walking to clear his head. "Time to clean up the mess." Akira muttered, and went to go see what he could do about the hole Tsukasa had knocked in the wall.  
  
-----  
  
"Maybe we can use this shit as insulation ?" Soujiro, having finally decided to join Akira downstairs, lifted a fistful of shredded paper and made as though to shove it into the hole Akira was examining.  
  
"No, no." Akira replied absently, "This is a job for spackle. Not sheet music."  
  
"This . . is music?" Soujiro raised an eyebrow and dangled one mutilated strip of paper in front of his face.  
  
"Umm. . ."  
  
"Nevermind. Let me see if I can assemble enough of these to actually see what Tsukasa was up to." For all he might diss on Tsukasa, Soujiro had a good amount of appreciation for his friend's talents as a composer. "Why the hell did you have to go and provoke him anyway? That's my job."  
  
"Dude. He punched a hole in the fucking wall."  
  
"Before or after you insulted him?"  
  
"Before."  
  
"Oh." Soujiro shrugged, "Eh. Whatever, this place is pretty shabby already, a few more holes won't hurt anything."  
  
"But I just painted this room!"  
  
.But Soujiro was no longer listening. He'd pieced together a few of the papers on the table; enough to read a few lines of text, and now his wrists were silently flicking an imaginary beat, his eyes unfocused with concentration as he read Tsukasa's scribbled notes.  
  
-----  
  
Outside, in the wan blustery sunshine of a winter's day, Tsukasa found himself wandering down unfamiliar streets, striding along angrily, his posture tense, his face clouded, as he fumed. In many ways, he knew, he could be considered a failure. He was arrogant, full of hubris. He was violent and possessed of an undying fury. He was a loner and an alcoholic. But he had never thought his friends would come to see him as nothing more than that. To him at least, it was clear from Akira's actions and comments last night and this morning, that Akira considered him an incompetent. Incapable of writing music. Incapable of clear thought. This showed through in how Akira had unilaterally decided to handle the Dr. Makino issue, and in how Akira had so obviously doubted Tsukasa's ability to write even one simple piece of music.  
  
So now Tsukasa fumed and raged, as he blundered blindly through the city. Didn't he deserve respect too? Even Soujiro got more respect, and he was just as badly fucked, in his own way, as Tsukasa was. It wasn't Tsukasa's fault that he was angry all the time. It wasn't Tsukasa's fault that he'd been driven to drink. It was life. And life had cursed him. Was it any wonder he'd reacted the way he had? Of course not.  
  
But even as he rationalized, a little voice deep down inside was nagging at him, whispering that if he wanted respect, if he wanted to be seen as the person he envisioned himself, then maybe, just maybe, he had to be the one to make a change as well. . . Perhaps he shouldn't be relying on others to see the truth he saw. Perhaps he shouldn't rely on others to change the world around him until it became acceptable to him. Perhaps he needed to be the one to make a change as well?  
  
Perhaps. . .  
  
Tsukasa didn't even notice that his feet had led him, at last, to a familiar part of the city; didn't even notice the blocky building looming in his view; didn't even notice the sign above the door as he pushed his way inside. He was too caught up by now, in the words and melodies racing through his head; in the words he'd penned as the day had dawned, the lyrics flowing effortlessly as inspiration swept him away-- the tone of the piece like nothing he'd ever written before, like nothing he'd even known he could write.  
  
Until now.  
  
As if awakening from a daze, Tsukasa shook his head and looked around the place in which he found himself. The ER. Of course. Where else but?  
  
At this hour on a Saturday there were few patients lingering in the waiting room, and even fewer nurses. But Tsukasa was impatient, and grabbed the first medical-looking person he saw.  
  
"I want Makino."  
  
"Excuse me sir?" The nervous-looking nurse tried to extricate herself from Tsukasa's iron grip, "I'm afraid you'll have to sign in. Someone will come see you when it's your turn."  
  
"I'm not a patient." Tsukasa growled. "I just want to see the doctor."  
  
". . .Not a patient?" the nurse looked dubiously, (and with a fair amount of distaste) at the still-bloody hand gripping her sleeve, and at the multitude of splinters decorating its scarred knuckles. Oh god, It was just her luck to run into a loony. He was asking for Tsukushi after all. And he did smell strongly of alcohol. Yes, definitely a loony. Definitely one of Tsukushi's patients. Best to get rid of him as fast as humanly possible. She debated briefly whether to page Tsukushi or call security. . but, as she felt no particular liking for the uptight, unfriendly doctor, she decided to let her handle this one all by herself. ". . .But of course, sir." The nurse dimpled prettily, "I'll page Dr Makino. She should be right down. Please. Have a seat."  
  
Tsukasa shot the woman a skeptical glance, as if he actually guessed some of her inner thoughts, but after a few seconds worth of deliberation, he complied with her request and sat sullenly in the waiting area.  
  
-------  
  
"What is it, Mary?" Tsukushi had been in the middle of her morning rounds when she got the urgent page from the ER.  
  
"We seem to have one of your patients down here, doctor. Do you think you could come take him off of our hands before he gets violent?"  
  
"Yeah sure." Tsukushi sighed. It was too early in the day for this. And she had so been looking forward to a quiet weekend. "Who is it?"  
  
"Err. . . Actually, I don't know. He wouldn't sign in. Just demanded to see you."  
  
"Great. . . . I'll be right there."  
  
Tsukushi hung up the phone and unenthusiastically made her way across the hospital to the ER. After last night's brief but strange encounter with Soujiro Nishikado, she had just wanted to go home, bury her head beneath her pillow and forget the world for a while. Unfortunately, she had not had that luxury. The ER had been filled with the usual Friday night assortment of injuries and accidents, and even if they hadn't all needed a psychiatrist to tend to them, still she had been drafted into doing other exams and chores until almost three AM. Due to the chronic manpower shortage in the hospital, it was almost cheaper to use residents like her, than to hire nurses or doctors for whom emergency medicine was a career. And then, even after she'd finally made it home, she hadn't been able to sleep. Instead, she'd lain awake, her mind tossing on a sea of memories and regrets, Asking her, taunting her with the eternal question : How could she possibly think she could save anybody else, when she couldn't even save herself? Yeah. It had been a bad night, and she had been only too eager this morning to spring out of bed and rush to the hospital to distract herself from her own unhappiness by focusing on other people's problems. Because if there was one thing she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt, it was that someone out there was always worse off than she ever could be. . .  
  
And while this had a dubious value as a comforting thought, it still helped her to get through the morning. . .  
  
Until she strode in to the Emergency room waiting room and came face to face with none other than Mr. Tsukasa Doumyouji.  
  
She almost turned around and walked away right then. But that would not have been professional of her. That would not have showed the backbone she wanted the world to know she had. So instead she took a deep calming breath and spoke.  
  
"Mr. Doumyouji. To what do I owe this honor? Perhaps you wish to argue with me like Mr. Mimasaka, or perhaps to mock me like Mr. Nishikado? Or, do you wish to threaten me again? I have already told Mr. Mimasaka all I can about Mr. Hanazawa's case. I presume he communicated my recommendations to you? Nothing you can say or do will alter my actions on this matter." Damn, that wasn't nearly as calm or professional as she had intended. Nevertheless, Tsukasa's next words still caught her completely by surprise.  
  
"I'm not here about Rui. I'm not here about Akira. And I'm damned well not here about that idiot Soujiro."  
  
"Not here about Rui?" Confusion flashed briefly in Tsukushi's brown eyes. "Then what are you here for?"  
  
"Not here about Rui." Tsukasa restated, and amended this thought with, "I don't trust you. I don't like you, and I don't know what the hell is wrong with you. . . but you made Rui laugh. . . ." And that meant more to him than she could possibly imagine.  
  
"So you came to insult me?" Tsukushi could feel her face beginning to flush with anger.  
  
"No." Tsukasa grit his teeth. It was harder than he'd thought to ask the question he'd come here for. And the abrasive doctor certainly wasn't making things any easier on him.  
  
"Then what?" She was rapidly losing what little patience she had.  
  
"First. This." Tsukasa stalled, waving his wounded fist in front of her face."  
  
"Oh god." Tsukushi rolled her eyes. This was a job for a nurse, or better yet, a medical student, not for a bloody psychiatrist like her!  
  
"You gotta problem with it?"  
  
"What the hell did you do? Come with me; we'll get that thing cleaned right up." Reluctantly, Tsukushi led Tsukasa into one of the empty examining rooms. She may not like the man. . .even perhaps was intimidated by his fierce demeanor, but even so, he was injured and she was sworn to try to heal him. Tsukasa simply shrugged. No way he was going to admit he'd punched a wall so that the pain could help him write. She'd think he was as crazy as Rui for sure. So instead he simply stared, stone faced, at the wall as Tsukushi gingerly plucked splinter after splinter from his perforated flesh.  
  
"There!" Tsukushi sat back at last, pleased with her handiwork. She still hadn't a clue why Mr. Doumyouji had sought her out for such a stupid task, but at least he wasn't threatening her like usual, or trying to seduce her like Mr. Nishikado, or trying to chivy information out of her like Mr. Mimasaka. She wouldn't describe him as pleasant, what with that fixed stare and all, but he was still less obnoxious currently, than a good number of her other patients. And, then, there was the music he was humming, an unfamiliar melody, just barely impinging itself upon her subconscious; a vibration felt rather than heard. She didn't even know if he was aware he was humming, or if it was a purely reflex subvocalization on his part. Either way, it was affecting her. . . although, in what way exactly, she couldn't quite describe. It wasn't anything like the concert she had attended where the sheer force of their music had blown her away. . .but there was something subtle in the quiet vibrations emanating from Tsukasa's throat that swayed her mood, little fingers of déjà vu creeping down her spine until she briskly shook herself free of the spell and looked up at Tsukasa. "Now, If you'll excuse me, I have other duties I need to get to. If you need anything else, I'm sure one of the nurses would be more than happy to oblige"  
  
"Wait." Tsukasa commanded, evoking a fresh sigh from Tsukushi. She wasn't about to just let this impolite bully order her around any more. Wasn't it enough that she'd just spent twenty minutes pulling wood shards from his hand? What now? She scowled at Tsukasa, noting his bloodshot eyes, rumpled clothes, the distinctive scent of inebriation in each exhalation from his lungs. Perhaps he'd been in another fight? But missed his opponent for the wall? Is that why he was really here? What else could he want? She could guess, maybe. But somehow she didn't want to admit to herself that the man who seemed to hate her every time they met might've come to her for help. . .  
  
"Stupid woman." Tsukasa snorted, holding her measuring stare with one of his own, "Aren't you supposed to be the shrink? Why do you think I'm here?" Did he really have to admit it?  
  
Tsukushi retreated from that intense regard, covering her discomfort behind a familiar mask, "Mr. Doumyouji. There are a great number of reasons why a man such as yourself might seek my help. You are obviously depressed, you suffer from severe antisocial tendencies, you are addicted to alcohol. . . "  
  
"So fix me." There. He'd said it. His dark eyes glared a challenge down at her. Watched the disbelief spread across her features. "You're the doctor. Fix me." It was as much a plea as a command. But at least it was a step in the right direction.  
  
To be continued.  
  
~~~damnit, I definitely lost the thread of where this was supposed to go, but I guess this will do, even if I liked my original plot better.~~~ 


	20. chapter 19 in which tsukushi angsts

~~~Umm. . . yeah, It's been more than a month since I updated anything. I suck, I know. And, sad to say, it's probably going to be another month before my next update. But things will get better after january, I promise. Unfo. I'm having serious issues finishing idiots, due to my inability to write about romantic angst when my own pseudoromantic entanglements are obsessing me. So that'll have to wait until the nonsense in my life blows over. Likewise with wind. And, another note of apology on this chapter here. There was going to be plot, when I started writing, but then angst got a hold of me, and the plot went running for cover. I hope to find out where it hid by the time of my next update. And responses to my reviewers follow the chapter. Whee! ~~cm~  
  
(Walking Wounded ch 20).  
  
Many hours later. Another cold night. Another night alone.  
  
Tsukushi lay in bed, wide awake, listening to the winter wind gusting outside her apartment. For a while she'd hoped that the distracting sound of the wind would help to clear her head. But it hadn't helped. Then she'd tried her usual mantra, reciting it like a prayer, "I'm all right, we're all right. It's all right. . .." It felt like hours that she'd lain there desperately trying to believe it was all true.  
  
But she knew better. Always had known.  
  
She wasn't all right They weren't all right. It wasn't All right. Nor, in recent memory, had it ever been.  
  
God, she tried, tried so hard some days that she thought her head might explode. If sheer effort and willpower could cure the hurting minds, the wounded spirits of her patients, then the psych. hospitals of the city would be depopulated in months. But effort wasn't enough. Case in Point: Rui Hanazawa. The damnfool idiots in charge of his rehabilitation had decided that he was "ready" to be released into the care of his friends and former bandmates. He was being released on Monday. But Tsukushi knew that he wasn't better, knew that the hospital was taking a dangerous risk with the man's life. All she'd tried to do, all they'd tried to do, and still he hurt, still he could lose his way, so easily. . . The road to recovery was too steep, too slippery a slope to be taken as lightly as his doctors had decided to. And his friends? They were supposed to provide proper discipline, proper oversight to keep him from indulging in his suicidal addiction again? Hah!  
  
It made Tsukushi want to cry.  
  
She'd spent the morning with Mr. Doumyouji attempting to do her job, to fulfill his fierce request. It had been exceedingly frustrating, and not exactly what one might call an overwhelming success. Rather, it seemed, it had taken all of the man's powers of cooperation just to make that one cry for help, and now, he could do no more. Indeed, it was almost as if he were embarrassed that he'd admitted he'd had a problem, as if he were angry with her for making him admit it. And so, he'd balked as she'd questioned him, stared sullenly at the wall when she'd required answers, yelled and paced and punched the wall when she'd persisted. Tsukushi had found herself backing away, not wanting to appear cowed, but itching to call security, to have him dragged away where he couldn't threaten her, couldn't rant and rage at her. . .  
  
"Fix me," he'd said. And she'd tried, really she had, though all she'd actually wanted to do was send him away, refer him to some other doctor, someone who might not find him so abrasive, so unpleasant, so threatening. But she found that she couldn't do that. Perhaps it was her bond with Rui that made her unwilling to shirk this duty, or perhaps it was her inability to give up, to realize that some tasks just might be beyond her ability to accomplish. And so she'd sat there, and asked him about his past, about his fiancee, about his dreams, his career, his family. And, in turn, he'd given her nothing. Nothing but tantrums and fury. An emotional wall so impenetrable it made her want to cry. How did he expect her to fix him if he gave her nothing to work with, nothing but rage? Rage was unhelpful, rage was a defense, not a symptom or a cause of his problems. If she couldn't break through that to the real pain underneath, then there was nothing she could do for him.  
  
And then, she'd found herself wondering, a bit guiltily, if she really wanted to break through? Wouldn't this give her a perfect excuse not to work with the man, to foist him off as someone else's problem? But she was sworn to help the ill. . .she wasn't sure she could live with herself if she didn't at least try. Didn't give even this, her best shot. . . And so, she'd grit her teeth and kept at it, until they were both red in the face with frustration.  
  
Nothing solved, nothing resolved.  
  
Tsukasa had left the hospital fuming, Tsukushi had sat down in her office and cried. It had been a bad day.  
  
And no, it didn't end there. That afternoon, she'd got the call from Shadybrook telling her of Rui's imminent release. She'd hastened over there to see him one more time before he rejoined his friends. He'd sat there in the common room, gazing blankly off into space, looking as if his body were as far away as his spirit seemed to be.  
  
"Doc." He'd murmured coolly, as he returned to reality, dull eyes focusing slowly on her pale face.  
  
"Hi Rui." Tsukushi forced a bright smile on her face, "They told me the news. Congrats."  
  
"Hah." Rui snorted softly and looked away, absently rubbing his forehead in frustration before looking up sharply at the doctor. "How long would you give me, doctor dearest?" he asked in a light tone totally at odds with the flat emptiness of his gaze.  
  
"Huh?" Tsukushi blinked incomprehension.  
  
"How long? Two weeks? Two months? It can't last." He sighed softly, as if in regret.-- though he would never admit out loud to anyone that he might be having second thoughts about his death-wish. He'd chosen his path, and he would see it through to its inevitable conclusion. After all, what more did he deserve than an early grave after the trouble he'd put his friends through?  
  
And suddenly Tsukushi was furious. It was too much! How could anyone hope for much when he wouldn't even try? "You! You ungrateful bastard!" she snapped, not caring, in this instant, how unprofessional she sounded, "How can you be so defeatist! The least you could do, after all this, is try! Even a little! You know you can help yourself, you know you don't have to despair! I know it! I've seen you smile, I've heard you laugh, there is hope for you, if only you seize it, if only you look for your happinesses, if only you take a chance on Life! You can't just sit there and pretend everything is as bad as it used to be, you can't just pretend that nothing's changed! I won't let you!" She paused and panted for breath, watching Rui's vacant gaze for even the slightest flicker of agreement, the tiniest spark of fire-- anything to keep hope alive. . .  
  
"I never wanted to be here." Rui explained calmly, though she knew all of this already, "I never wanted to laugh again. I never wanted to feel again. You did that. . . " he laughed softly, as if amused at himself and his reactions to her, "It's been an experience. . . but once they let me out of here, I won't come back. You see? They can't make me go to therapy, they can't make me go to you. They can' t make me try."  
  
"Why not!?" Tsukushi demanded, furiously, "Why can't you try? Why is it so hard?"  
  
Rui shrugged slightly, the words he could have spoken -- It's my fault they died, my fault my friends are miserable. . .It's only right that I fade away. You were all better off without me anyway -- dying unsaid in his throat. What need had he to justify himself? It was all irrelevant to the end. Instead, he said something so unexpected that it surprised them both, "If I could have, I would have chosen your way. . . . I think. . . " and here he paused as if unwilling to admit the rest of his thought.. "I think, I wish I could be the man you think I am. But don't you see, I'm not?" I've never had that strength. Never had the strength to fight for something good. . .I've only followed, and surrendered, and fallen. . .  
  
. . .Followed his friends when they formed their band, silent and obedient to Tsukasa's whims.  
  
. . . Surrendered to Shizuka's charms, allowed her overwhelming grace, beauty and perfection to capture his lonely heart.  
  
. . .Surrendered to Guilt when she died, Surrendered to Shame at his own weakness, Surrendered to the urge to punish himself, Surrendered to Despair. .  
  
. . .Fallen from grace, from home and happiness and all that gave him hope and strength. Fallen into a pit of despair and self-pity so deep, that even now he could hardly see the light of day.  
  
He'd never been the type to take what he wanted, never been the type to fight for what he believed. His refuge always lay in passivity and solitude, in letting life pass him by, as he hid behind his music and his vacant stare. And now Tsukushi was trying to change all that, had spent months trying to change all that. . . And truly, deep within his heart, he was beginning to believe, that he might have liked to try her way, to fight for what he believed in, to live passionately and vibrantly. . . but he couldn't do it, not when even he could see that this philosophy made Tsukushi no more happy than he was, himself. . .  
  
It was a nice dream. But only that.  
  
Tsukushi blinked at Rui's admission, opened her mouth to protest, opened her mouth to try One final time, to berate some sense into the man before her, and so, was caught even more flatfooted by his next action, when he sat forward suddenly, closing the space between them in an instant, to brush his lips across her forehead in the lightest of kisses.  
  
"Thanks for everything, doc." Was all he said, as he swiftly rose and left the room, his lips shut tight against all the things he could have said, things like, 'Don't blame yourself when I fall again, ' or, 'If any one person could have saved me, it would have been you.' But sometimes mere human effort alone is not enough. Already he was weighing his options, considering how much freedom his friends would allow him, how he could balance, and overcome, his reawakened love for his music with his need for oblivion.  
  
Perhaps he was selfish, yes. But what had he to live for really? His music, perhaps? His friends? But they were so wounded already that even his life could not save them. All he could so was drag them down with him as he drowned in self-pity. They would see, when he came to live with them, then they'd understand why he would have to leave again, why he would have to complete his descent into hell.  
  
But that was all in the future. For now, he would put that all aside for a few hours; forget himself in the soothing melodies of his violin; let its pure notes carry him farther away from this miserable plane of existence than heroin had ever managed to.  
  
In the now-empty common room, Tsukushi had been left sitting wide-eyed and stunned, at the unexpected conclusion to their final session. Shakily, her hand went to her forehead, as if to trace the lingering sensation left by Rui's lips.  
  
"That. . . That was a violation of our professional relationship, Mr. Hanazawa!" she spoke to the empty air, heedless of her solitude. Never once had a patient been so frustrating, so painful to work with, so heart- wrenchingly hopeless as Rui Hanazawa. And none had ever kissed her, never indicated the slightest hint of affection beyond the normal doctor-patient rapport. It was profoundly disturbing, all the more so for her awareness of her own lack of professional distance where Rui was concerned. Perhaps it was for the best then, that he was now no longer her charge?  
  
She didn't believe that for one instant.  
  
------  
  
And so, midnight had found Tsukushi awake in bed, replaying the day's events, chanting her mantra and failing to find sleep.  
  
Two AM rolled by, then four, and still she tossed restlessly, unable to sleep, unwilling to give up on the attempt. At last, she heaved a great sigh, and threw off the covers. She couldn't take it any longer. She needed to not be here, not be alone with just herself and her unhappiness. Quickly throwing on a pair of jeans and a tattered old sweater, Tsukushi grabbed her car keys and headed to the Starbucks where Yuki was working the all- night shift. If nothing else, she could keep her roommate company for an hour before the other woman staggered off to sleep and Tsukushi staggered off to work.  
  
Much to her surprise, when she pushed through the heavy doors into the warmth of the coffeeshop, Tsukushi found that her friend was not alone. . .  
  
TBC. . .  
  
~~~Responses to reviewes!~~~  
  
joshniki -- ah, but medical ethics are highly overrated, especially in a fanfic. Of course there's still not much room in this fic for romance yet. . . sorry I didn't update sooner!  
  
Toinks -- thanks! I didn't write lyrics to any of the boy's songs and I don't intend to, b/c unfo, I think my attempts would suck. Is better to let you imagine something far more impressive:)  
  
Shopps-- sorry, not too much Tsukasa action in this chapter. Next time, however. . .  
  
Xxswtdreamerxx1 -- thanks! Sorry I didn't hve time to update sooner  
  
Fresh8 -- ah, the first person to mention tsukasa's oocness in that chapter. Damn, I knew him asking for help was going to be suprising, but apparently I misjudged just how out of the normal it was. Oh well.  
  
Ruth-- sorry about that, I thought I had deleted my string of curses before posting along with the rest of the rant I had started that chapter off with, but apparently I was wrong. I won't even go into why it was there in the first place. .. I'm sorry tsukasa's actions were suprising, I guess I'm totally screwing up his character in this fic. I'll try to stop doing that.  
  
Orenjipanda -- well, I gotta write one standard T/T pairing in one of my fics before someone lynches me. May as well be this one, no? well, perhaps not, we'll see-- even I don't know yet for sure!  
  
Sheen-- thanks for another amazing review! I'm so glad you're still reading! (I have to admit, I've been being bad and reading façade again without reviewing , I'll try to fix that, and to stop being such a delinquent in future )  
  
Lian -- hee, you can do my psychoanalyses from now on. I can't tell you if you're right or not where this is going to go, but you will find out! I've still got more suprises lurking around the corner. . . 


	21. chapter 20 in which soujiro flirts

~~welcome to another random edition of curdled's pseudorant of the day! Whee. . .. Sometimes I think the most frustrating thing of all, is not being able to explain a situation adequately. Not so much because you don't know what's going on, but because you know that the whole truth, the truest truth, would disturb and mystify your audience far, far more than the minimal gloss they may have heard. More often, though, all is left unsaid, and that is even worse. People are too complex, lies too deep, self delusion too powerful. What a mess we make of our lives.  
  
On the "plus" side, in 40 days I'll have an absolute tonne of free time again, and with the GF back in town, no boytoy to waste time with, so I'll be able to update on time. Really, I swear. Only 40 days. In the meantime, I did get out a chapter today, because I've already soaked 9 pairs of socks, 3 pairs of jeans and two coats trudging through the snow to work, etc, and I ain't going out again tonight, no matter how tempting it is to go out and play.~~~  
  
"Yuki?" Tsukushi slowed to a stunned halt, to stare at the erstwhile barista, and the companion with whom she was, to all appearances, excitedly flirting.  
  
"Ah! Tsukushi!" Yuki nearly jumped three feet in the air when she saw her friend glowering there in the doorway.  
  
"Heya doc. . ." her companion drawled more slowly as he turned to greet the newcomer, "Guess you couldn't sleep either?"  
  
"Caffeine Will do that, you know." The coffeeshop's fourth occupant didn't even look up from the table he was bent over at.  
  
"Wha. . .. What are you doing here?" Tsukushi's angry, and somewhat scandalized gaze darted from Soujiro Nishikado, at the counter, flirting with Yuki, to Akira Mimasaka, sitting at a table, sipping a latte, and scribbling notes in a disorganized pile of papers.  
  
"Working." Akira nonchalantly replied, though, by this point, Tsukushi was looking expectantly over at Yuki for answers. Yuki, however, was too busy blushing and looking flustered to reply.  
  
"Well," Soujiro amended slyly, "He's working. I'm saving this poor lady here from a night of utter boredom." He turned to give Yuki a cheeky grin.  
  
"Lazy-ass!" Akira called over from his table.  
  
"Hey, man, I've got my priorities straight! Unlike some! I'd rather spend time with a cute girl, than trying to decipher Tsukasa's handwriting all night."  
  
"Well then, I guess I'll be getting to my own work a bit early, " Tsukushi sighed and turned to go back out into the predawn chill. It was obvious that Yuki was doing just fine without her company, and she didn't really feel the need to intrude any longer on this particular scene. Though she did wish, she could warn Yuki, one last time, to stay away from the sex- magnet that was Soujiro. Not that she thought her advice would be taken; her roommate always had been a bit of a pushover where cute guys were concerned. Not to mention, cute, famous, talented guys.  
  
"Oh come on, doc!" Soujiro urged, "Don't run away on our account!" But it was too late, she'd already pushed through the doors and out in to the darkness.  
  
"Umm. . ." Yuki bit her lip and frowned. Tsukushi only came out at this hour of the night, err, morning, when something was bothering her. If no one else had been around, she would have followed Tsukushi out and tried to find out what was wrong, but she couldn't leave the register when there were customers in the shop! Even if she highly doubted they'd be tempted to steal. . . . It was still an infraction that could cost her her job. So, instead, she lingered at the counter, torn between duty to her friend, and duty to her job.  
  
"She really doesn't like us, does she?" Soujiro asked plaintively.  
  
Yuki shook her head, perhaps in negation, perhaps in agreement; it was hard to say.  
  
Meanwhile, Akira came to a decision. "I'm going to go talk to her. I'll be back."  
  
"Hey, wait for me!" Soujiro protested, but Akira just shook his head and hastened out the door, leaving Soujiro to continue his flirtations, in a more subdued manner now, with the concerned barista.  
  
---  
  
"Hey doctor Makino!" Akira called out down the street at Tsukushi's retreating back. His melodious voice cut through the predawn silence with startling clarity. "Do you have a minute?"  
  
"No, not really." Tsukushi mumbled, mostly to herself, as she slowed her pace, and turned to face her pursuer.  
  
"Hey, I just wanted to thank you for patching up Tsukasa again yesterday. I never would've been able to get all those splinters out on my own!" Not that Tsukasa would ever have let him close enough to try.  
  
"Anyone could have done it," Tsukushi shrugged, "I was just doing my job."  
  
"Oh no!" Akira protested, "Not anyone! He doesn't like people touching him! I'm amazed he even went to the hospital of his own accord.. . . ." Clearly, thought Tsukushi, Mr. Mimasaka was fishing for information. This wasn't about the lacerated hand at all. . . No, somehow, Akira had found out about their miserable attempt at a therapy session, and now he wanted to pump her for the details.  
  
Well, that, for sure, wasn't going to work.  
  
"Whatever." Tsukushi shrugged, "Wait till he starts picking at the scabs, then we'll see how good a job I did at patching him up." Hah! Take that as a metaphor, if you will, she thought just a little bit pettily, as she continued, "So what, if I may ask, were you and Mr. Nishikado doing up so early, besides harassing poor Yuki?"  
  
"Now, now. I'd hardly call that harassment." Akira chided, "Soujiro was just taking a break from our work."  
  
"Work?" Tsukushi was interested despite herself.  
  
"Yeah." Akira shrugged, in an attempt at nonchalance, and lowered his voice conspiratorially (despite the marked absence of any other people in the street), "Tsukasa wrote lyrics for a bunch of new songs. Soujiro and I have spent the day arranging the music to go with it. . . . We're going to perform on Friday."  
  
"Friday?" Tsukushi had to admit she was surprised, "I don't know much about music, but. . . don't you need a bit more practice time than that?"  
  
"Normally, yeah. . . but we think it'll be ok. . . " Akira grinned suddenly, as if struck by a thought, "Hey, do you want to come?"  
  
Tsukushi jerked to attention --a concert of theirs, with Junpei? Another chance to be assaulted by their music with it's overwhelming emotional force, another chance to come face to face with the man who'd made her the person she was today? No! No! She didn't want to go. Even if she had realized that the rift between the F3 and Junpei would keep him from the concert, she still would not want to go! No, she wanted to put as much distance as possible between herself and these men who shredded her equilibrium like so much confetti. She couldn't take them for long when they were in their normal, subdued personas; she wasn't sure she could take them when their anguish was in full control of them, not after that scene with Rui yesterday, not after all her confrontations with Mr. Doumyouji. . . No. She didn't want that, didn't want it at all . ..  
  
So why then, did a small nagging corner of her brain keep telling her to say yes?  
  
All Akira saw was her jerk, her sudden blank-faced denial -- an emotion so extreme it looked like terror. "Don't worry," he soothed, as calm and assured as ever, "We know you don't like Jun. . . but you won't have to worry about him. . .he's not part of our group anymore."  
  
Tsukushi shook her head in negation, as if to say, "No, that's not it at all. . . or at least, that's not all. . ." But Akira pretended to misread her gestures,  
  
"Well, then, great. . ." he enthused, as if she'd eagerly agreed to come, "I'll send you a pair of tickets by Wednesday? I assume the delectable Miss Yuki would like to come as well?"  
  
"Send them both to Yuki." Tsukushi found her voice at last, "I won't be there. Save your gifts for those who appreciate them."  
  
"Ah, but doc. . . " Akira spoke more seriously now, "I think you do, perhaps, have a deeper understanding than many. . . Come on, it can't hurt you to listen for a bit. . .and perhaps, it just might help? . . .So, what do you say?" Oh yes, he could guess just what a woman like this diminutive psychiatrist might be able to read into their performances. He could guess the inferences and conclusions she might draw. But all that was secondary. He wanted this woman to like them, to trust them, to help put their pieces back together again. He'd seen what she'd tried to do for Rui. He could guess what Tsukasa might have tried to gain yesterday. . So how could he then fail to offer up anything that might help her to understand them better?  
  
Tsukushi merely closed her eyes in resignation, but refused to give an answer one way, or the other. Akira counted it as a victory, if a small one. "Great then, I'll put your name on the guest-list at the club. . . 10 pm, Friday! You won't regret it, I promise!"  
  
"Somehow, I doubt that, " Tsukushi murmured, eyeing Akira with some hostility. She could see just how he manipulated her, pushing all the right emotional buttons to make her agree, and she hated it. Hated knowing that she was being manipulated. . .but what could she do? Akira had a point, much as it pained her to admit. . . she wanted to, needed to, understand them better than she had been. Their pain, their uncompromising refusal to recover from their emotional wounds -- it was rapidly becoming an obsession with her. And even she was not so blinded that she could not see the slight parallels between their unhappinesses and her own.  
  
Akira pretended not to notice her skepticism and merely flashed another cheerful smile at her as he turned to head back to the coffeeshop, "Ah well, we shall see which of us is right. . .In the meantime, though, I have to get back to work. . .unless you want to give Soujiro enough time for a quickie with your cute friend there? No? I didn't think so. . . see ya 'round, then, doc!"  
  
And that then, was that.  
  
---  
  
The week flashed by about as quickly as could be reasonably be expected.  
  
Tsukushi worked hard. (But then again, when did she not?). And every so often she would look up from whatever she was doing, with a distracted air, as if listening to a voice or snatch of haunting music that nobody else could hear. Though really, it was simply the voice of uncertainty whispering in her ear, asking her if she thought Rui was doing ok, if she saw any hope for him, if Mr. Doumyouji would ever return to her office, and would she treat him if he did?  
  
No answers were ever forthcoming, and she would return once more to the task at hand, certain of only one thing; that she had to hear the rest of the melody that had insinuated itself in her memory. She had to know what other secrets it contained. She knew from whence it came, of course -- she'd heard Mr. Doumyouji humming as she'd plucked the splinters from his hand last week. But, the words, the rhythm, the entirety escaped her. . . and somehow she needed to know it, to touch and to feel it. Perhaps it would tell her what it was she'd been missing all along?  
  
Thus, when as promised, the tickets to Friday's show arrived on her desk (this time, so different from the last, in a crisp white envelope embellished in Akira's handsome penmanship), she knew she had no choice but to go to the concert. Go, and risk getting swept away in the tide of music, lost in a flood of overpowering emotion. . .  
  
-----  
  
For the musicians themselves, it was a hectic week. Writing, perfecting, and practicing a whole new set of music in a single week is an almost impossible task -- and some might deny it was possible at all. But they were determined to do it, for their own pride and sanity, if nothing else.  
  
Tsukasa, as expected, ranted and fumed when Rui, now set up in his own room in their townhouse, refused to participate.  
  
"We need you!" he'd raved, "Who else is going to play bass?"  
  
"I don't care. It's not my problem." Rui had closed his eyes and turned away, feigning sleep. In reality, however, he was fighting the cries of his heart, which pled for him to accept their offer, to turn from his commitment to death. . . To try to accept what they were offering, to give a little back.  
  
But Tsukasa had nagged and pestered, and made himself too obnoxious to be ignored. That, plus the fact that Rui's hands, against his conscious will, fairly itched to play again. And it was thus, that Rui found himself listening in as the other three jammed in the basement. He pretended he didn't care, pretended he didn't hear -- that it all meant nothing to him. But it was as much a lie as the dull, cold, sleepy exterior he presented to the world.  
  
In the quiet of his room, he lay back and stretched out, remembering the music, his fingers knowing just what they would do if he were to take part in the harmonic ebb and flow.  
  
Downstairs, Soujiro frowned and mopped the sweat from his forehead, "Damnit! It's just not flowing!" he cursed and cracked his wrists.  
  
"We're getting there," Akira soothed, "It's much better than before."  
  
"But not good enough!" Tsukasa broke in with a snarl.  
  
"Nothing's ever good enough for you." Soujiro accused sharply, but then settled back down contritely when he saw the sudden pang of frustration cross Tsukasa's face. They were all working too hard, trying too hard to build a complete sound when they all knew that something was missing.  
  
And it wasn't even like it was hard to identify the missing component. Every upward flick of the eyes verified it. . Rui. . . He was here, yet he wasn't. Back in their lives, but not. Each of them had tried talking to him, tried engaging him in their life, but with no luck. . . Even a fool could see just how doctor Makino had gotten so frustrated and maddened by this one man. He could be made whole, could take his rightful place in the group. . . But he didn't want to.  
  
But what could they do?  
  
They could play. They could be there. They could hope.  
  
And so, that's what they did. They hoped, they prayed, they practiced until their fingers and throats were raw, and their tempers frayed. All week long, the knotted tangle of emotions seethed and stormed around their house, building and concentrating, waiting for its impending release.  
  
Rui could feel it pulling at him, calling him as much as the (steadily improving) clamor rising from the basement did. It tried to pull him in, to enmesh him in his friend's hopes and dreams, to make him feel their desires and their pain as well as his own. Separate from, yet part of, their music, it haunted him and lingered on the edges of his consciousness, until at last he knew, that try as he might, he could ignore their pleas no longer.  
  
TBC. 


	22. chapter 21 in which music is played

~~Looky, I got out a chapter, just in time for christmas. Enjoy, it's all the xmas present you'll be getting from me. :-P .~cm~~  
  
Cold heart and grey soul.  
  
Like the winter skies above.  
  
And the street below  
  
Friday. A grey day, with icy flakes floating through the wintry skies. Towards the afternoon, snow changed to a drenching sleet, turning the white- dusted city into a grey, slushy puddle. Not an auspicious omen, Tsukushi thought on her way home from work, as she shivered in the frigidly damp night. Spring should be coming soon, and yet the weather remained as bleak and chill as her own mood. At least, Tsukushi snorted to herself, this sort of weather would surely preclude any attempt on Yuki's part to force her to dress in proper clubbing clothes. No one in their right mind would put on something skimpy -- and drafty, if they had to go out in such a freezing downpour.  
  
Yuki, obviously, wasn't in her right mind.  
  
An hour, and several voluble arguments concerning clothes, later, the two women set out for the concert. Yuki was dressed to kill, yet she entered the club with more than a little trepidation. She'd developed quite a crush on the notorious playboy Soujiro, and couldn't quite understand why he hadn't suggested anything. . . untoward. . . at their last encounter at the coffeeshop as she'd secretly been hoping, as she'd secretly been sure he would. So now she looked around shyly, half-hoping, half-fearing to see the F4 lounging around, flirting in the club, looking her way, noticing her. . .  
  
But of course, they were nowhere to be seen. Not before the beginning of their set. Yuki heaved a little sigh of mingled relief and disappointment and turned back to her reluctant companion.  
  
"See, Tsukushi? I told you, you should have worn that leather mini-- you'd blend right in here."  
  
"Yeah, and freeze my ass off in the process." Tsukushi grumbled tersely, In contrast to Yuki's groomed prettiness, Tsukushi had refused to dress up at all, and come in a pair of her oldest and most comfortable jeans, ones just beginning to sprout jagged holes at the seams where her sharp bones abraded the tough fabric. . . .Now that she thought about it, in fact, Tsukushi realized her outfit was eerily similar to the one Tsukasa had worn when he had performed at their last concert-- comfortable jeans and a black T- shirt. Tsukushi shivered as if chilled by the unwelcome parallel, the unwelcome resonance of attitude with the churlish man. But it was far too late to change now. Tsukushi shrugged off the feeling and braced herself for the beginning of the concert. Already she could hear, in her mind, that elusive melody, carrying through the roar of conversation, cutting through the filler music blaring down at her, and building, changing, becoming something more.  
  
Or perhaps, it wasn't all in her mind. Though the stage was dark and murky with smoke, Tsukushi was sure she could almost see human figures, tall men lurking in the shadows, grimly clutching instruments.  
  
No indeed, the music was real. Others in the audience gradually ceased their idle chatter, gradually turned their eyes towards the darkened stage, to wait, transfixed, as the music built. No vocals, only the surprisingly subtle intertwining of their instruments, at first gently haunting, like an old, familiar wound, then plunging down to evoke the quiet depths of gut- wrenching despair. A slow build back up, recalling the faintest stirrings of hope, before fading away once more into an echoing silence.  
  
The silence lingered heavily, as if the entire chamber were afraid to breathe, while in the shadows, the F4 stirred, and, much to the audience's shock, a voice began to croon in the silence. Lyrics they'd never heard before, a new theme. Even Tsukushi, who knew intimately the subject that had inspired this new music, could feel each pang of hurt and regret stabbing at her with each harsh note.  
  
And it was only after the heart-shattering crescendo, that Tsukushi realized that the singer was not, as she had expected, Tsukasa. Not this time. The words were too well formed, too rounded as they were sung, as if the lips that shaped them were caressing them as they passed through. Though he sang of a hopeless search, of abandonment and mourning, of loss without closure; Soujiro sang as if the music were a woman, as if it were but one of the endless lovers he took to ease the gaping loneliness in his soul. Tsukasa, with his harshly bitten off consonants and anguished vowels, could never have sung like this.  
  
Tsukushi let out the breath she didn't know she'd been holding as the song ended. Beside her, Yuki gaped, quivering as if she were drowning in the music. How she wished she could fill that hole in his life, ease that ache in his soul. But even she knew that was no more than a fantastical dream, a hope beyond any reasonable expectation of fulfillment.  
  
Before either girl could fully recover her breath, the next piece began with an ear-splitting crash of noise. And this time, despite the still- darkened stage clouding the view of the band, there was no doubt that Tsukasa was the singer, and in fine form at that. A song of dying by degrees, each day a little more numb, a little more hardened, a little grimmer, the call of the bottle and the despair of dependence. It was as if he was saying to the crowd, "look at me you fools, your idol, your dream, here I am; a shell of a man, an angry drunk. And you worship me." He mocked them as he mocked the man he had become.  
  
And just when the audience thought he was done, His tone changed, became something more, furiously lashing out as if it were and act of destruction. He sang of rejection, as if it were a good thing. Rejection of despair, rejection of self-pity. He screamed his rage and denial into the darkness, and the music carried him. Standing there, in the press of the crowd, Tsukushi knew, he wasn't singing just of himself, but that this music was a plea, a battle cry, a command, directed at one man; Rui Hanazawa.  
  
The musicians poured their hearts and souls into their instruments, the melody, familiar only to Tsukushi and to the band, wrapped Tsukasa's words and carried them, dagger-like, straight into the hearts of his audience. Surely, no one who heard this plea could fail to answer. . .  
  
At last, the set trailed off into exhausted silence. Still, the band lurked, enshrouded by smoke and shadows, on a darkened stage. A clever person would have thought to wonder, "Why all the mystery? Why did they hide their handsome features from their adoring audience?" Tsukushi, her breath hitching in her throat, was sure she'd figured it out.  
  
Nor was she to be disappointed, when out of the gloom and hushed silence, emerged a reply to the set's tumultuously emotional plea. Hauntingly mellow, it was not a voice nor yet one of the band's standard instruments that spoke, but a simple violin.  
  
Tsukushi, of course, recognized it instantly, and gave a small gasp of hope. If Rui had joined with the band tonight, for this small show, might there not be more hope for his continued progress to more fully join the world of the living. Even Tsukasa was trying, so mightn't he as well?  
  
It was questionable. The piece he played was beautiful, of course, but it lacked a certain spark. It was almost as if this were his apology to his friends, as if he were to say, "This much I can do. I can join in your music. But I cannot give you the hope you want, I cannot do more. I cannot risk experiencing life again. I do not have the strength for it." Or perhaps she was simply reading too much into a mere piece of music. Perhaps he was simply tired after the exertion the rest of the set had demanded.  
  
And the audience was growing restless. Classical music was not what they had come to hear. And most probably didn't understand tonight's musical subtext at all anyway. Music is music right? Talent and a genre, that's all they wanted. Not this. . . Whatever it was. . . Even Yuki simply looked confused as the last notes faded away.  
  
But then, at last, the lights slowly came up on stage, and the entire audience gave a collective gasp to see who completed the F4. Sure, rumors of the band's estrangement from Junpei had been flying. . .but the group had kept news of Rui's rediscovery surprisingly well under wraps, and no one, save perhaps for Tsukushi had had the slightest idea that he might be present tonight. Yet, there he was, tiredly leaning over his violin, a distant expression on his face, as if he had only just come back to reality this instant.  
  
The crowd roared in delight, a deafening cacophony that stuttered and died only when Rui, rose, stony-faced, turned his back on the audience, and left the stage, as if shunning their joy, or as if hiding from their accolades. It wasn't like they understood his song anyway. The remaining three members exchanged worried glances, and a quick nod from Tsukasa sent Soujiro scurrying after the vanished man, while Akira took the mic.  
  
"Hey there folks," he began wearily, "As I guess you can see, there've been some changes around here. I know tonight's performance was a bit rough, but we only just wrote the songs this week, so it's to be expected. Wish I could tell you all when we'll be back in the studio, but. . ." he trailed off dismissively. The audience didn't need to know about the niggling little details of contract disputes, Nor did they care. What they wanted to know was -- Was Rui back for good? What happened to Junpei? Where had Rui been this long while? Rui, Rui, Rui. . . Tsukasa glared out at the crowd, as if daring anyone to ask that question. Akira merely smiled sunnily, and quipped, completely off-topic, "Maybe next time they'll even let me sing."  
  
"Not bloody likely," Tsukasa growled back, distracting the crowd from the burning questions in all their minds, "You sound like a dying dog."  
  
"You just don't appreciate talent." Akira harumphed, "Anyway, That's it for us, That's all the new material we've got. But the club's got some great local talent coming up in a bit, so stick around!"  
  
And despite the repeated cries for an encore, the F4 did not reemerge on stage.  
  
----  
  
In the back of the crowd, an angry man glowered and lurked. So this was why they'd been willing to risk lawsuits, and severed ties with their label. So they thought they could replace him with a half-dead junky who'd been better off left to die in some back alley? Junpei snorted. And they let him play that drivel, as if it meant something. That sort of thing could never sell. That was not the way to make a living. The F4 was living in the past; bogged down in their own self pity and regret. Truly, he'd been a fool to think them his springboard to success; a fool to hinge his hopes on them, when plainly with this pathetic reunion of theirs, they were headed nowhere but down; dying stars. While his star surely, must now rise, since he'd been cut loose from their fortunes.  
  
Jun snarled softly. He was a man who got what he wanted. The F4 could shove him aside, but they wouldn't keep him down. That he was sure of. He'd come here tonight out of curiosity at what sort of idiot they'd found to replace him, and now he knew. It was time to leave, before anyone in the crowd recognized him and thought to question his presence. Slowly, he pushed his way through the crowded club, ignoring the inviting press of bodies on the dance floor or the temptation of the bar. It wasn't until he had almost reached the exit that he spotted a familiar figure near the far wall.  
  
------  
  
"I told you, Yuki! Go on without me, I'll be there in a bit." Tsukushi shooed her friend away. Though she should have been delighted by the chance to see how her patient(s) were doing, she felt obscurely unwilling once more to intrude upon their presence outside of the safe haven of the hospital. It was silly, she knew. But they just had that effect on her, making her feel so defenseless and weak, making her doubt herself. Feelings she'd never wanted to have again. So now, she just needed a few minutes to steel herself. Maybe grab a quick drink to help shore up her defenses after that musical onslaught.  
  
"But Tsukushi!" Yuki dithered, yearning to see the band in person once more, to flirt with that handsome devil Soujiro, but nervous still, overawed by their performance, by the change in the social dynamic of their meeting that the shift in venue from coffee-shop to club would bring.  
  
"You'll be fine! Just go!" Tsukushi was exasperated by now, and felt her own doubts echoed in each of Yuki's insecurities. "Besides, I doubt Mr. Nishikado is discriminating enough to care what you say to him." she muttered under her breath, too low for Yuki to hear, as she turned and headed for the nearest bar. Yuki sagged in defeat, and with a deep breath, went to present her backstage pass to the bouncer.  
  
-----  
  
". . .Long time no see. . ." Tsukushi whirled from the bar, her spine tensing warily at the old familiar voice murmuring a caress in her ear.  
  
"Not long enough, Jun." She spat, backing away, clutching at her drink as if it were some sort of protective talisman, "What do you want?"  
  
"Tsu. . ." Junpei's voice took on a tinge of regret as he herded the diminutive doctor away from the bar and into a more quiet alcove, "It was never meant to happen. . . After so many years, can't you ever. . . forgive me?" His was the silken voice of a master manipulator, a con artist, or a liar. And Tsukushi knew it. Something was ever so slightly off in his attitude, just as it had been so many years before, when she'd been too much the fool to recognize the darkness beneath.  
  
"It's too late, Jun." Tsukushi was ashamed to realize her voice was shaking, embarrassed that she was still afraid of him, still weak after so long. "Forgive, maybe. But never forget." She never had been a forgetting sort of person.  
  
It was then, that Tsukushi realized with a shiver, Junpei had her cornered once again with her back to the wall, and no one was paying her plight any attention. No one at all.  
  
To be continued.  
  
~~~The auto-summarize feature in microsquish word is a truly bizarre creation. I swear. Try it sometime.~~~ 


	23. chapter 22 in which tsukushi kicks

Tsukushi gulped for air and reminded herself that she was a grown woman now. She couldn't let herself be domineered, trapped, by one such as Junpei anymore. She was stronger than that! She had to be. . . . And this Was a public place after all. what could he do to her here? Surely he wouldn't follow her when she left? After so many years, surely his obsession had to have faded? All of this and more, raced through her brain in a few panicked seconds, as she braced herself to meet Jun's gaze.  
  
"Tsukushi" Junpei's voice was a deceptively gentle caress, the steely glint in his eyes belying the warmth of his tone. "Can't you even give me another chance? I've missed you so much."  
  
"You don't deserve another chance." Tsukushi spat back, tensing as he advanced incrementally closer. She'd spent years trying to forget what he'd done to her. Years trying to pretend it hadn't hurt her. But even she could recognize that lie. She wasn't about to let herself be hurt by him ever again.  
  
"What, then? I see you've been hanging around the F3, or "the 3 failures" as I like to call them." His tone hardened with an edge of spite, or perhaps jealousy, "Have you found them more to your liking? Which of them are you banging?" On seeing Tsukushi's already pale face whiten further, as if in confirmation of his suspicions, he continued harshly, "Or perhaps they're taking turns? If you can put out for them, than surely you can spare a quickie for an old friend?" Truly, he didn't really mean to say things like that. But something in him had stirred, months ago, when he'd glimpsed Tsukushi again for the first time in years; a hunger, a need, for the girl. The memories of her innocence and sweetness so many years ago; of her caring ways and brilliant smile. He had missed it, craved it, wanted desperately that which he'd once thrown away so carelessly in a moment's passion. He'd never been good at controlling his temper or his jealousy. If he wanted a thing, then no one else could have it. In college, he'd wanted Tsukushi; he'd taken all her friends away so he could have her to himself. Now he found, that he still wanted her, and the thought that she might belong to one of his musical rivals pushed him over the edge.  
  
In one swift strike, his hands found Tsukushi's shoulders, pushing her roughly against the wall, despite her grunt of protest. He didn't care what anyone might think, what anyone might say; she was his, and always had been!  
  
Tsukushi, however, had other ideas. The whole scenario was like one of her worst nightmares, the past come back to haunt her. And one part of her soul, remembering all too vividly that horrendous night in college, just wanted to gibber in fear and go limp until he was gone. Another part, equally strong, went rigid, wanting to flee. But presiding over all, was the strong, rigid persona that Tsukushi had developed over the years, the strong unyielding demeanor that she wore on the wards, the front that nothing scared her, that she was in control, that she could do anything. This part of her sought to stay in control, to not let her memories sweep her away in a wave of terror and shame. She had faced down worse crazies in the hospital, more violent, more psychotic. True, none of them had evoked such painful personal emotions, but that was besides the point. She'd dealt with them, and she could damned well deal with Junpei. What else were all those defense classes she'd taken for, after all?  
  
Junpei was trying to kiss her. Tsukushi thought she might vomit if those detested lips came anywhere near her own. Well, there was one sure way to prevent that occurrence. One sharp movement brought her knee smashing up into his groin, and as he staggered, loosening his grip on her shoulders, the heel of her hand shot out to deliver a forceful jab to his solar plexus.  
  
Tsukushi didn't stick around long enough to see the gratifying results of her actions -- that is, the sight of a full grown man curled up in excruciating agony on the filthy floor of the club, unable even to draw the breath for a scream or a whimper, due to the blow to his chest. Several of the less drunk or stoned club goers did, however, turn to help the man lying in their midst. For while his previous encounter with Tsukushi may have looked to outsiders like a harmless tryst in the shadows -- a common spectacle in a darkened rooms, a lover's spat ending with physical injury was a much more entertaining show. The rapid accumulation of good Samaritans and gawkers around the injured man, served Tsukushi's purpose well, and no one noticed her hurrying for the door, stopping only to grab her coat. She didn't care where she was going, so long as it was away from here, some place where she could take a breath, and clear her head.  
  
-----  
  
"Damnit!" Tsukasa exploded, "Where is she?!"  
  
"She probably didn't want to hear you yelling," Soujiro suggested crossly, annoyed that Tsukasa's yelling was distracting him from his tete a tete with Yuki.  
  
"She said she'd be right along." Yuki timidly suggested, "Maybe something happened?"  
  
"She's avoiding us." Tsukasa growled.  
  
Rui, sitting moodily in a corner of the backstage lounge, said nothing. He exuded his usual air of disinterest, and his friends would have been shocked to know that behind that calm, distant expression, he was just as curious as Tsukasa as to where the Doctor had wandered off to. He would never admit to anyone, that he too, wanted to know how she had responded to their music, and what jabs and encouragements she might throw at him, after seeing him perform. He didn't want these feelings, didn't want to need to hear her approbation, but he had to be honest to himself, at least. If he was going to do this, to unite even in such a small way with the band again, then he wanted to know that there was someone out there who understood what it had cost him to surrender so much; what it had cost him to be here, now, with no chemicals suffusing his bloodstream, and nothing keeping him sane but the melodies in his mind. The doctor would have understood. But probably no one else. So, he too was disappointed at her failure to appear.  
  
"She's probably just getting a drink." Akira hastened to make excuses; excuses even he didn't believe.  
  
"She's taking too long." Tsukasa surged to his feet. "I'm going to go get her."  
  
"Tsukasa, Wait!" Akira grimaced; too late. Tsukasa was gone.  
  
"Hey, We're leaving." Soujiro spoke up, a blushing Yuki behind him. Akira lifted a skeptical eyebrow at the choice. Though Soujiro had been flirting with the girl since they'd first met, she was so not his type. Akira'd thought Soujiro had realized this too, which was why he hadn't bedded her yet. Apparently, the post show euphoria was making his friend stupider than usual. Oh well, Akira shrugged, finally. Really, though he was sure the stupid girl was about to have her heart broken, it was none of his business.  
  
"Have fun." He waved them off, resignedly, "See you tomorrow, back at the house."  
  
"You got it!" Soujiro grinned, and turned to leave, chaperoning Yuki from the room.  
  
"Dr. Makino's gonna kill him." Rui spoke up at last.  
  
"Yeah." Akira agreed complacently. "Doc's had to pull her friend off of 'Jiro virtually every time they've met."  
  
"And you didn't perhaps tell him that this is a bad idea?" Rui wasn't even sure why he was bothering to care, after all, he'd devoted his downward spiral to not caring about his friends anymore.  
  
"You kidding? Of course I did. But the guy can't pass up a hot chick. Maybe breaking a real heart will make him stop his errant ways."  
  
"You don't believe that." Rui's tone was a deadpan counterpoint to Akira's lightly satiric commentary.  
  
"Of course not." Akira shrugged, "But I think that for sure, this'll sic the good doctor on him like nothing else possibly could."  
  
"Ah." Rui almost laughed. But this he would not allow Akira the satisfaction of. Instead, he merely nodded, as if in appreciation of Akira's little plan.  
  
It was but a few seconds later, that Tsukasa burst back through the door. "She's gone!"  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"She left us a little present, before she left."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Apparently, we had a rat at the show."  
  
"Tsukasa, what the fuck are you babbling about?"  
  
Tsukasa sighed in frustration, "Fucking Junpei. Came to spy on us."  
  
"What does this have to do with the doctor?" Akira was already getting exasperated with Tsukasa's vagueness.  
  
"Apparently, they ran into each other. She doesn't seem to like him much."  
  
"So what? Tsukasa, she doesn't like you much either!"  
  
Tsukasa laughed harshly, "Yeah, but she's still never kicked me in the nuts." He spoke as if with new respect for the diminutive woman.  
  
"Really?" Akira's eyes widened in disbelieving amusement, "She really did that?"  
  
"As far as I can tell," Tsukasa laughed again, enjoying the memory of Junpei, that foppish little fuck, moaning in pain on the floor, "I spoke to one of the bartenders who saw the whole thing. For such a small chick, she sure delivers one hell of a kick."  
  
"Ow." Akira cringed to imagine such a thing. While he was sure Junpei must have deserved it for something, especially sneaking, as he had, into their show, still. . . kicking a guy in the crotch just wasn't fighting fair.  
  
"She should've stuck around." Tsukasa continued, "I'd've liked to shake her hand for that."  
  
"Aren't you forgetting, that you can't stand her?"  
  
"Well shit, she's still a fucked up bitch." Tsukasa agreed, "but you gotta give her props for laying out that asshole like he deserves."  
  
"You always did like violent women." Rui at last ventured to join the conversation.  
  
The conversation was all downhill from there, until at last the three musicians got up the energy to overcome their disappointment at missing the doctor again, and leave the stultifying confines of the backstage area for the icily frigid conditions of the outside world. Home was waiting for some of them, quiet, and comfort, and perhaps even sleep for those that could find it. . .  
  
-----  
  
Akira wandered aimlessly down the deserted street. The bitter winter wind whipped at his long hair and threatened to suck the warmth from his bones. Still, it was nice to be alone. He loved his friends dearly; would do almost anything for them, but sometimes he just had to get away. He forgave them their craziness, their moods, their fights, everything. But he couldn't be taking care of them all the time. Even he needed a break from his eternal guardianship. Right now, Tsukasa was probably hitting the bottle, and Soujiro was getting it on with Dr. Makino's cute friend Yuki. Rui . . . hopefully, Rui was asleep. Hopefully Tsukasa had taken the time to make sure their friend hadn't acquired any. . . illicit . . . substances at the club before he, himself, had headed for the liquor cabinet. Akira could only hope.  
  
In the meantime, he resolved not to think about any of that. This was going to be his personal time. His and his alone. He could go out drinking if he wanted, or dancing at a club -- he hadn't dome that in ages. He could call up any one of several lady-friends he knew in the area, see if perhaps their husbands were away, and if they could use some company. . . But deep down inside, he knew, he would do none of this. Instead, he'd probably wander aimlessly for a few hours, until his sense of responsibility got the better of him, and then he'd go home to check on the rest of the guys. It was the mother in him taking over. He couldn't escape it anymore than his friends could escape their own, less benign, compulsions.  
  
He sighed, and kicked a stray piece of gravel off the sidewalk. It would be nice to escape once in a while.  
  
The wind was picking up again, and the damp gusts threatened a return of the icy rains that had plagued the city during the day. And here Akira was, without even an umbrella. He sighed again. that limited his options even more : return home now, while he still could do such a thing and stay dry, or find some warm peopled place to wait out the expected rain. Well, he wasn't ready to go home just yet, so option B would have to do.  
  
Almost at random, Akira found his way to one of the city's all night bars -- one of many that populated this area. The smoky pub was quiet and dim at this late hour, even on a Friday, and Akira easily found a seat at the bar. He ordered a scotch and soda from the bored bartender, and turned slowly to scan the environs.  
  
Oh dear. That miserably hunched figure at the far corner sure did look familiar. Akira downed the rest of his drink in a few swift gulps and headed over. Guess his mothering duties for the day weren't quite over after all. Sometimes even therapists need therapy. And by the look of it, this was one of those times.  
  
To be continued!  
  
~~~pfft! To all those of you who wanted one of the f4 to 'save' T from junpei, I say, I can't write such a thing, just what cultural background do you think I come from? Ya gotta save yourself. No woman is a hapless victim all the time. besides, hyd is all about Tsukushi saving the F4 from themselves. (ok ok the inverse is true too, but still. . .)  
  
And, in other news, the hunt is over, the armada sunk, the team disbanded. Thank god. I have free time again. I would've updated sooner, but last week I was recovering from severe sleep deprivation accompanied by massive caloric deficits. And then, since that weekend of suckage trashed my immune system, I got the flu. Now that I'm on the way to recovery -- only sleeping 13 hours a day! (even managed to go to work today for 4 hrs), I'll be trying to update all my fics, as soon as I force myself to actually read them and figure out where the hell I left off and where my plots are going. Woot! ~~cm~ 


	24. chapter 23 in which Akira talks a lot

__

She spends too much time with herself every night

Just fooling around with her fears.

In the morning she mourns the decline of her mind

Drowning in a bottle of beer.

It's too dangerous, just to think about

What she might have been

If she'd sung for salvation

If she'd danced on her dreams.

- Alabama3 - peace in the valley

---------

Wouldn't it be nice to escape, just for a little while? Escape this world entirely. Could you imagine what it would feel like, reality slipping deliciously, euphorically, away? Times like these, Tsukushi could sympathize completely with her patients. This, this feeling, this was what drove them headlong into self-destruction. 

She knew it better than she would ever admit. Likewise, she recognized the warped and skewed shape of her own life as just another form of that self-destruction. Life in a bottle, like a carefully distorted bonsai. Twisted shapes of nature's agony, perfect, and untouchable. Yeah. That was her. Nothing touched her. No one touched her. Splendidly static isolation. 

Just another romantic self-delusion. Tsukushi snorted at her own imaginings and took another gulp of her Guinness. The beer was a poor choice, in hindsight, she reflected. Thick and foamy, it seemed smooth to drink, at first, but now sat in her stomach uneasily, just waiting, she was sure, to inflict a miserable sickness upon her. That'd really make this night perfect, now wouldn't it?

Absently, Tsukushi traced patterns in the condensation on her glass. Funny how the bartender had tried to cheer her up by pouring the beer such that a heart shape was etched in the foamy head. It hadn't worked, however. She'd sat there, staring at the image, while the bartender told her jokes that failed to make her laugh. Eventually, he'd gone away, and she'd been left to sip her drink and ponder what her life might have been like, if only she'd never met Junpei.

"I'm ok!" she muttered fiercely, gripping her glass as if she could shatter it, not caring who might hear her talking to herself. "It's ok. I'm a good doctor. I am. I've got a great job, that I'm good at. That's all I need. Nothing else. It'll be ok. I just need a vacation. Just need to get away for a while. That's all." She didn't notice the way her hands were shaking, or the tears that were glistening in her eyes.

But someone else did. Akira, upon noticing Dr. Makino at the bar, had stealthily crept closer, while she was preoccupied, until he could overhear her murmured conversation with herself. The caretaker in him ached to hear her pain; the caretaker in him winced at the thought that someone so broken was the one responsible for healing his friends; the caretaker in him resonated with the thoughts she spoke aloud; thoughts he'd been thinking just a short while before -- how nice it would be to escape the confines of responsibility, just for a little while. 

Akira couldn't help himself; the reverberations in his heart were too much. Without stopping to think, he slipped into the vacant seat next to the doctor, and slung a friendly arm across her shoulders. Pitching his voice in soothing, low tones, he spoke rapidly, before the startled woman had time to lash out at the unexpected contact.

"Heya doc, we missed you at the show tonight."

Tsukushi stiffened, tensed, her head swiveling rapidly around to peer at Akira, as she strove to recover her aloof poise. "You followed me."

"No such thing. Serendipity is all!" Akira protested

"Hah." Tsukushi snorted, pulling away.

"You been here long?"

"I think I was just leaving." 

"You haven't finished your drink."

"I've had enough. Goodnight Mr. Mimasaka."

"Wait a sec, doc. I didn't get the chance to thank you."

"What for?" Tsukushi, caught in the act of putting on her coat, turned suspiciously back towards Akira. "You've made it quite clear, you don't trust me, you don't really want me treating Rui. . . Or Mr. Doumyouji." she added the last almost as an afterthought. 

"I never said such a thing!" Akira protested. He may have thought it, he may have implied it, but he'd never said it to her face. . . "Besides, that's not what I was thanking you for-- I wanted to thank you for giving us the opportunity to see Jun sobbing on the floor like a little girl-- That made my night like nothing else!"

Tsukushi's face closed down even more. "I didn't do it for you."

"Of course not!" he replied warmly, "So what? A little something for everyone." As if realizing the sensitivity of that particular topic, he restrained his curiosity and changed the subject, before Tsukushi could run away, "Come on, you don't really want to leave -- it's cold and rainy and you have no umbrella. Why don't you sit back down, let me buy you a drink! Besides," he cajoled, "That's twice now you've skipped out after our concerts. Tell me, are we really that bad?"

Reluctantly, Tsukushi succumbed to his prodding, after all, it Was raining out there. "No." She sighed at last, "You're not that bad. . . Actually. . . I was rather impressed. It was good to see Rui responding to life again. . ."

"Is that all you got from it?" Akira kept pushing. However, Tsukushi was unwilling to let herself be cajoled into speaking again. Everybody always wanted something. Why couldn't they just let her alone? She reached for her abandoned drink, grimacing at the slightly bitter aftertaste, and continued to steadfastly ignore the man sitting beside her. 

"All right" Akira held up his hands in surrender, "you don't want to talk, then fine. I will. Let me tell you a story, doc. The true story of how the F4 met. . .

"We were freshman in college. . .It doesn't matter where. . . Just that it's one of those places where you can be admitted on your family name alone. Tsukasa's great uncle donated the media arts center, Soujiro's grandfather funded the library . . . you didn't know? Yeah, they're That Doumyouji and Nishikado. We were all supposed to be there to be groomed for the family businesses. You know, four years undergrad, then on to law or business school. Honestly, I was never one of those types. I was just lazy, you know? Easy to get into with my family connections, easy to coast through, and my family lived relatively nearby, so my sisters could come up for the day and visit, so they were happy. . .

"It was perfect, until I met Tsukasa. He was the black sheep of his family; angry, undisciplined-- they'd even tried to put him in military school before. None of it had calmed him down. At last, they'd given up and let him run free. But college was good for him; he'd been jumped by Shigeru a week or so after orientation, and she'd gotten him hooked on drumming. . . We all lived in the same freshman dormitory, see. I lived down the hall from Tsukasa. His drumming used to keep me up nights when he practiced. I wasn't the only one given insomnia by him -- did I mention that when he first began, he was really fucking bad? Anyway, it was mid-January or something, and Tsukasa's elder sister, Tsubaki had come to visit him. I guess she was staying in his room that night. But he was pounding away as usual, making an unholy racket loud enough to wake the dead. I got up to go ask him to stop, so I could sleep, but this other guy beat me to it. Soujiro, half dressed, stumbling sleepily from the room next door -- not his own room, I might add -- to hammer on Tsukasa's door. There were death threats exchanged, and I swear they would have come to blows, had not Tsubaki intervened. . . Now, you have to understand Tsubaki --- she was a force of nature, and when she got an idea into her head, nothing could stop her. Well so, maybe it was sleep deprivation, or maybe it was sheer genius that made her hear something unexpected in Soujiro's voice as he traded insults with Tsukasa. There was one split second I swear, when I could see epiphany spreading across her face, you know, It was blinding." Akira shook his head at the memory, pausing to sip his own drink, and evaluate the effect of his words on Dr. Makino. Satisfactorily enough, the doctor wore a look of concentration, as if she were deeply internalizing his words for future reference. Good enough. Akira nodded, and continued,

"Tsubaki decided that Soujiro and Tsukasa should form a band. Said she knew just the guy for the third. And no, it wasn't me. I thought she was crazy. . . but there they were a few days later, reserving a practice room. Seems Tsubaki had had a little talk with 'Jiro's girl friend Sara. . . and Sara had 'persuaded' Soujiro that this was all a good idea. In fact, I believe that it was she who wrote their first song, and she who decided that a boy band they would be. Rui -- the promised third-- apparently was dragooned into the enterprise by Tsubaki, who'd gone to college with his girlfriend Shizuka, and therefore knew of his passion for music. . . 

"They went through a whole series of extra fourth members during their first few months. The practicing was about as godawful as you'd expect. . but they got better, except for their inability to keep their guitarists. See, Tsukasa had a temper still, even with Shigeru riding herd on him, and he had a tendency to flip out at the other band members. The guitarist of the week would flip and quit. Rui would ignore Tsukasa and Soujiro would yell back, and then they'd go for weeks without talking, until Tsubaki came back to town and kicked their asses. This kept up for a while you see, and meantime, I became friends with Soujiro, 'cause we frequented the same bars. . . 

"And then one day, Tsubaki struck again. She'd arrived in town just in time to catch another major flare-up between 'Jiro and Tsukasa, and, man, was she pissed! "I can't even leave you alone for two weeks without a babysitter!" were her exact words, I believe. . . Unfortunately, I was supposed to meet 'Jiro for drinks after their practice, and I arrived just in time for the aftermath of the fight. . . just in time for Tsubaki to see me and declare, "You. You there, you're the new guitarist. Babysit these children for me, will you? They need someone to look after them when I'm gone.""

Akira shrugged resignedly. "Well, like I said, Tsubaki was a force of nature. I couldn't fight her. I learned to play guitar, badly, I might add. On the other hand, I had years of experience babysitting my sisters, looking after the guys wasn't that much worse. At least, not for the first few years. Not while the girls were still alive. Still, I've been with them ever since that day. But you know, doc . . ." And here Akira turned his unwavering gaze on Tsukushi's still features, "I once had plans for my life, not like this, not the way it's turned out so far. But someone has to be there. Someone has to be the responsible one. You know?" 

Unexpectedly, Tsukushi interrupted his little diatribe with a bitter laugh. "I know. . . They rant, they suffer, and they cry. Someone has to see them. Someone has to feel their pain. Someone has to listen, someone has to make things better."

"And it's not the life you thought it was. Not the joy you were told it would be."

"But you don't know how to change."

"You've been doing this far too long."

"And there's never a real vacation."

"You can never get away."

"And if you did, where would you go?"

"You can't escape yourself."

"I think I've had too much to drink." Tsukushi murmured absently as their conversation washed through her brain like snippets of an old familiar song-- reflecting from one mouth to the other, as if they were each anticipating the other's words.

"Or maybe not enough." Akira replied, glancing at his own empty glass, and feeling the fragile threads of his newfound rapport with the doctor fraying as their volley of reinforcing sentiment ceased. 

"It doesn't help." Tsukushi shook her head ruefully.

"Tsukasa." Akira pushed the glass away, acknowledging the truth in her words.

"What does?"

"Nothing."

"You can pretend that it's all right. . .If you have something to hope for."

"Do you?"

"No. Do you?"

"Of course."

"For yourself? And not just for them?"

Akira shook his head, "You got me there doc. What I used to wish for. . .It's not compatible with the life I live. A house, a wife, my 1.5 kids, and a pile of cats. Domestic bliss? Now, I think I'd be bored. Where's the challenge, the excitement?"

"That's not a dream, but a nightmare. And you'd still be responsible for taking care of it all."

"At least I'd be taking care of my dream, and not Tsubaki's. . ." Akira snorted softly in self mockery, "and what's your dream, O' doctor dearest?"

"Me?" Tsukushi blinked morosely at Akira, "I haven't any."

"We can fix that."

"How?"

"One sure way to induce sweet dreams."

"No." Tsukushi recoiled as Akira drew closer.

"Soujiro swears by it."

"Mr. Nishikado is a fool." She replied stiffly

"And I'm not." Akira countered, "You think I'm an idiot? You think I can't put one and one together. You. Junpei. A lot of little things. I can see. Doc. And I can think. We can help each other, you and I. We only have to try. . . You can call it therapy. I call it. . . escape.."

Tsukushi must have been more affected by her drink than she'd thought. Somehow, something in his words made sense, seemed less horrific than she'd thought, and Tsukushi found herself carried away by that one little word. Escape. 

It wasn't until later, that reality caught up with her at last. 

After all, the only true escape from life is death. Nothing else could last, not even Akira's phenomenal endurance. . .

TBC. 

~~… Look! Implied sex! behind the tildes. oh my! Wondered when that was going to happen. Now I know. Which brings me to the rant of the day. In a simple sentence like so. I fucking hate hate hate being the Other, Other Woman. And yet, it's still the only gig going for me. Godfuckingdamnit all to hell. Remember kiddies, don't be like cm -- over 300 pgs of angst, and counting!~~~


	25. chapter 24 in which the inevitable occur...

~~So, it turns out that the real thing that actually motivates me to put out chapters, is deadlines. When I have things due, I punt by writing. When nothing's due, I fail to twitch adequately enough to start babbling. So, I'd better hurry and put out as many updates as I can before Friday, eh?~~  
  
And so, there they were. A man and a woman, more in common than they would have thought, less in common than even they could know. Perhaps they were just carried away by the knowledge of their shared plight; their hopelessness in the face of others' pain; their inability to escape the responsibilities that bound them. What does it matter, but that they were there?  
  
Well, to tell the truth, there was a lot that mattered.  
  
Somehow, they'd ended up at Tsukushi's place, presumably on the theory that Yuki wasn't likely to be coming home anytime soon, not given Soujiro's ability to exhaust his playmates. Not that this was discussed at all -- you know how these things just slip by in a tacit glance or nod.  
  
And now, the scene. Familiar, like a well-worn archetypal paradigm. The crumpled sheets, the naked bodies, the faint sheen of sweat. Ah, so it looks like a casual act of passion, the classical bar pick-up. But it's not. If you were standing there, you could sense it in the tension in the air, the unease, the cautious care with which Akira proceeded -- as if Tsukushi might freeze him out at any moment. Those shivers rippling across her skin, not of excitement, or anticipation, but the rigidity of fear, discomfort-- as if she wasn't comfortable with the responses of her body, the way it seemed to react without the agreement of her subconscious or even conscious mind, as if she feared the loss of her own iron control.  
  
Akira leaned in closer, studying the doctor's pale skin, with a fascination born from years of studying women's flesh. Doctor Makino was pale, as if her skin never saw the sun. Small wonder, that, with the way she kept covered up in severe clothing, and her white coat -- her badge of office as it were. More than that, however, he observed, as his callused hand stroked her sides, and caressed her bony hip, that the woman was painfully thin, with sadly untoned muscles -- as if she cared not at all for her body, or as if she were deliberately neglecting it. With her bone structure, Tsukushi could have been a hottie, he mused with absent regret. Instead, she locked herself away, preferring to forget what her body was capable of -- what it was built to enjoy. Being able, as he was, to guess the root cause of this, made Akira want to get his friends and do far worse to Junpei, than a mere kick in the crotch. But he wasn't here to get involved in that debacle, or not so directly. He was here to enjoy himself, and hopefully, to bring Dr. Makino an equal pleasure -- or at the very least, to ensure that she slept well tonight.  
  
He applied himself to the task with a will, only peripherally noting how Tsukushi responded slowly, as if relearning dusty lessons from long ago, shaking the rust off her amorous skills, such as they were. And still, there was something missing, something a little too deliberate about her actions. As though she wasn't allowing herself to respond naturally, as though she had to think about every movement, every breath.  
  
Akira, on the other hand, Was enjoying himself, Was allowing his cares to dissolve in the blissful sensation of tingling nerves, the scent of heated flesh, the smooth caress of flesh on flesh. And it appeared that Tsukushi too; was loosening up at last; was easing into the eternal now of sex, all building up towards that one glorious moment when everything dissolved, control snapped, the world vanished. . . That moment was the one Soujiro lived for. And now, Akira craved it as well; a moment's escape, that's all. Not so very much to ask, was it?  
  
And Tsukushi tried, she really did. She wanted to escape just as badly as Akira, if not more so. But old habits were hard to change, Old memories remained too strong. The need to remain in control, too overpowering. For her, there was no moment of ecstasy. Never had been, in either of her previous failed relationships, nor tonight. But she was an empath, responding almost automatically to Akira, giving him the illusion he needed, just as she might try to give her patients the support and reassurance they yearned for. . .  
  
In the aftermath of his orgasm, Akira pulled away, a puzzled expression hazing over his flushed features. She couldn't have. . . No one had ever done that to him before. . . His skills as a lover were paralleled only by Soujiro! But, it was undeniable, that something he'd sensed as they were building up to this climax. . .  
  
"You faked it!" Oh sure, towards the end there, she'd almost seemed natural, almost allowed herself to respond. And yes, her imitation was very good. But it wasn't the real thing. Where was the real Dr. Tsukushi Makino, and what would it take to get her to come out and play?  
  
Tsukushi sighed faintly, watching warily as Akira cuddled up to her. "This was a mistake." She murmured at last, pushing herself to sit, huddled over, at the edge of the bed. "A really big mistake. I think you should leave now."  
  
"You shouldn't be alone."  
  
"Everyone, Mr. Mimasaka, is alone." She laughed bitterly, "You can't change that just by wishing."  
  
"But I'm here now." He murmured, stretching up behind her, to wrap his arms around her bony frame, "Two heads are better than one. We can help each other. . . All it takes is a little honesty."  
  
". . .I'm going to clean up. Please, just forget this ever happened." Tsukushi shrugged Akira off, and stalked wearily towards the bathroom, ignoring the joking plea behind her,  
  
"At least tell me that you'll still respect me in the morning!"  
  
-----  
  
In the bathroom, Tsukushi stepped into a blisteringly hot shower, leaning forward against the still-cool tiles, while steaming cascades of water washed her body clean of the residue of sex. God what had she been thinking? With Junpei's harassment only a few hours behind, the memory of his betrayal so freshly recalled. Oh yeah, she could picture what her textbooks or her professors would say about this. 'Plainly a classic case of denial. She's afraid of men, so she's going to go out and fuck one, just to prove she isn't.' Brilliant, Tsukushi, Just brilliant. Couldn't you have at least had the sense to pick a random stranger with whom to screw up? Not the friend of your oldest patient and long term crush? So humiliating, and now she was going to have to go out there and face him, pretend she didn't just want to curl up and die. Even now, she cringed, all she'd been able to think about during their recent activity, was how, this time, like every other time she'd had sex, she'd had to fight down a rising sense of horror, and of nausea, with every caress, and every penetrating thrust. Oh, it didn't matter that he was skilled and gentle-- Amon had been skilled and Kin had been gentle -- still, she'd never been able to let go with either of them either. It was easier, in the end, to learn to fake an orgasm, then to deal with their more ardent efforts. Yeah, she knew she had problems, insurmountable as far as she could see. So what on earth had made her think that taking Akira home would be a good idea? Couldn't even be blamed on alcohol. One beer was not enough for that sort of stupidity.  
  
But, oh. . . Sometimes. . . Sometimes, when she couldn't help herself, she did dream. She dreamt of the way she once had been, before Jun. When she'd had friends; when she'd been cheerful and strong, like tempered steel, not like now, when the only strength she had was hard, and cold, and brittle, like old iron. Once she'd known how to smile for real. Once she could have been the kind of person to take real pleasure from helping her patients. Once she might have known how to relax; how to just be herself and enjoy what life had to offer. Enjoy the release Akira had tried to share with her. . . But all that was a dream, from which Jun had so rudely awoken her, a dream she could never return to.  
  
Reluctantly, she turned the shower off. All actions had consequences. Now it was time to face hers.  
  
-----  
  
"You're still here." Tsukushi gazed impassively at the man in her bed, her drawn features and nervously flicking eyes betraying her unease.  
  
"I wanted to make sure you didn't get the wrong impression." Akira replied smoothly, fighting the childish impulse to tease the uptight doctor about her incredibly prosaic choices in undergarments,  
  
"And what wrong impression would that be?" Tsukushi stiffly pulled her robe closer about herself and frowned her query. "Look, doc." Akira soothed, "We both needed something. We still do. So we tried something that didn't quite work out. It's not the end of the world. I'm sure you've had the experience before, with your patients, that some therapies just don't work. So you try something else. Or try harder. . . ." At the look on her face, he hurried on, "No! I'm not saying we should try the, ahem, physical therapy again. . . But, you have to admit you have a problem, before anything can be done. We're enough alike, you and I, that I can help you. We can help each other. So why are you so afraid to even try?"  
  
"That's not what you really want." Tsukushi replied coldly. "Is it just some game to you? First you send Mr. Nishikado after me, then yourself? Was it all a contest? Well fine. You won, go and tell your friends that you fucked the doctor and that it was just as bad as you thought it would be. Have yourself a good laugh, but spare me the rest of this bullshit." Her control, frayed by the emotionally turbulent events of the night -- from the soaring high of the concert, to the crashing low of her encounter with Junpei and the subsequent Misjudgments and mistakes she'd made, finally snapped, and she staggered out of the doorway, into her living room, where she stood, huddled against the door, crying in great sobs, as if all the pent-up tears of years and years of unhappiness were finally flooding out.  
  
"Go away. Just go away." Was all she could manage to gasp when she finally noticed that Akira had followed her.  
  
"I don't think that's such a good idea." Akira shook his head, and gently steered Tsukushi towards the couch. "You're the doctor. You know that it's bad to be alone in times of such emotional distress. I'm not going anywhere, until you talk to me.. . .Talk to me Doc. Don't you think it's about time you showed someone the real you?"  
  
TBC.  
  
~~whoot! It's another bad-sex scene! Cm's antidote to all the fanfic fluff out there in which lovesick virgins get it on and live on eternally in monogamous bliss (not necessarily in the hyd fandom, but I'm sure you've seen the genre -- it's been annoying me excessively.) 


	26. chapter 25 in which loneliness acts

On the other side of town, a man and a woman lay entangled amidst sweaty sheets. The hour was late, the lights were off; they should have been asleep, especially after the extremely aerobic exercise they'd recently been performing. And, in fact, Soujiro was asleep; sprawled carelessly across the bed, his angular features still tinged with a rosy flush, long eyelashes gracefully drooped over closed lids, a small frown pulling down the corners of his mouth. He had not meant to fall asleep; he rarely ever stayed the night in his lovers' hotel rooms. But it had been a long day, and a longer night. And Yuki had proved to be more energetic, more passionate, more full of inexhaustible sexual hunger than he could possibly have expected. So now, Soujiro was out cold.  
  
Yuki, on the other hand, despite her weariness, and her surety that her overworked and abused muscles were going to be sore as hell in the morning, was quite awake. Contrary to Tsukushi's belief, Yuki knew just what she was getting into tonight, after all, she read the tabloids; she knew the stories of Soujiro's playboy reputation; she knew that a one night stand was all she'd ever get with him. Was it enough? She didn't know. All she knew was that she'd've regretted forever passing the opportunity by. Now only time would tell how much she'd regret having risen to his bait. Would he break her heart when she never saw him again? Or would she be strong? This question was what now kept Yuki awake, until at last she made up her mind. Strength meant taking the opportunity and then moving on. It was time to move on now.  
  
Yuki cautiously slid out of bed, quietly groping around the darkened room for her scattered clothing. Before she could change her mind again, and slide back into bed -- slide back into the warm embrace of a man who most certainly would not be there in the morning -- she dressed and slipped out the door, pausing only for one last look at the sight of Soujiro's sprawled form-- looking lost and lonely amidst the rumpled sheets they'd recently shared.  
  
------  
  
Shortly thereafter, Soujiro woke, his restless night-time tossing alerting him to the emptiness and coldness of the bed. He was alone. Now, hypocritical as it may seem, Soujiro hated to be abandoned after sex-- it reminded him too much of the way Sara had abandoned his side through her death. Sleeping alone left him feeling vulnerable and scared; he needed contact and company. He needed the control that came with being able to chose when to go or stay by someone's side. Yuki's departure left him cold and miserable. He tossed and turned for a while, hoping that his exhaustion would precipitate him back into sleep, but no such luck. With a final toss and a muttered curse, Soujiro finally staggered out of the bed, hastily throwing on his clothes without even a cursory check to se if Yuki had left him any sort of note; he'd not call her number even if she had left it, and an explanatory note would go unheeded, for what sort of explanation was needed? They both understood the situation well enough.  
  
Down in the hotel lobby, Soujiro waited impatiently for a taxi to come around to take him home -- home, where hopefully Akira would be sleeping, willing to put up with Soujiro crawling into his bed in the middle of the night, craving the warmth and security of any kind of human contact -- as he had so many times before.  
  
-------  
  
Back at the boys' house however, another drama entirely was unfolding.  
  
Rui sat pensively on the shabby, but eminently comfortable couch that graced the den. He hardly even noticed the soft cushions and comfortably sagging springs as he stared fixedly at the object in his hands. It was taking all his attention and all of his willpower not to let his fingers tremble.  
  
It had been so simple. So dreadfully, so completely, so totally effortless to obtain.  
  
He had even tried to be good, but he knew temptation lurked behind every corner, in every darkened alley and crowded club.  
  
Temptation.  
  
Rui could not look away, couldn't even change his focus one iota from the hypodermic needle he held in one ice-pale hand.  
  
A dealer he knew, in the crowd at the show, had recognized him. So simple. Rui had not even made a move. After the show, after Soujiro had slipped away, while Tsukasa and Akira had been preoccupied, the man had approached. Rui hadn't said a word. "A gift" the dealer said, a snide little leer, as if he knew all it would take, a little push while Rui was in the money, and he'd be raking in the dough. Rui's numb hands had closed around the proffered package. So simple, just one little muscle spasm, hardly even a conscious act on his part, and the deal was done.  
  
The room was dark, one dim light illuminating Rui's pensive form as he contemplated eternity. His hand began to shake.  
  
There was enough heroin in this needle to stop his heart forever, of that, Rui had no fear. One quick jab, and soon the euphoria, the release, and then, eternal peace. It could all be so simple.  
  
So why did he hesitate now?  
  
It was what he had wanted for so long, was it not? What he'd debased and degraded his way towards? A grim death, body and mind divided forever the one abused and wasted, the other soaring in that honeyed rush. Soaring away, and away. And away. . . . before the crash that would bring him plunging back to an earthly hell. Though of course, with an overdose like this, there would never be a crash that he could perceive. No risk, no pain, one little prick, and it would be over.  
  
And still Rui could not move the needle closer to his vein, still he hesitated, still he trembled. Damn that doctor and damn the F4, for dragging him here, for interrupting his downward spiral, for making him feel, and play, and. . . doubt. Damn them!  
  
Rui grit his teeth. They were wrong. His music wasn't enough. Their music couldn't save him. He'd listened, despite his best intentions, he'd participated in their farce of a life, but he was still alone. Would always be alone. Since she had left him here.  
  
The quivering needle moved closer, an inch, maybe more, as Rui mentally egged himself on.  
  
Upstairs, in his room, his instruments lay abandoned, placed reverently in their cases like cadavers in their coffins. Hidden away, lest he see them and be swayed from his purpose. Likewise, he himself had come downstairs, lurking in the common room, a place that lacked emotional resonance for him; full of other people's stuff, he'd been careful to leave nothing of his behind. Nothing to connect him to this place. He thought it would be easier for him this way, easier for his friends to find his body in the morning, or whenever it was that Soujiro and Akira returned from their carousing with whatever bimbos they'd found, or Tsukasa awoke from his alcoholic stupor.  
  
Shit. Rui flinched at an brief noise, momentarily afraid that Tsukasa would wake and catch him before he'd pulled himself together and done the deed. He cocked an ear, but the house was silent. It must just have been a cat outside, or the wind. . . Again, Rui cursed his weakness, the surprising inability to just get it over with. The tourniquet was making his arm go numb; the over-used veins barely even visible, so scarred were they.  
  
It was now or never, Rui decided, and poised his uncooperative hand to ease the needle deep into the ruin of his vein.  
  
-----  
  
Soujiro quietly let himself into the house, the clicking of the latch the only noise as he made his way into the foyer -- Soujiro had long practice sneaking back to hotel rooms long after the other men had fallen asleep, and had learned to move silently and in the dark so as not to wake his sleeping friends. A faint light from the den beckoned him, and Soujiro carefully made his way thither, concerned that Tsukasa might have drunk himself into a stupor, or fallen asleep while working on the computer again.  
  
Neither of these scenarios was what met his eye, when Soujiro passed through the doorway. Fuck. His mind went blank for one critical second, before reflexes he never even knew he had kicked into action.  
  
An incoherent cry of panic and denial issued from his throat, startling Rui and distracting him for the instant Soujiro needed to fling himself across the room, racing to reach Rui before that poisoned point could pierce his friend's flesh.  
  
TBC  
  
Hmm.. that probably wasn't quite the chapter you were expecting. Enh, whatever, I didn't feel like dealing with Tsukushi's issues just yet, after all. 


	27. ch 26 in which the phone rings

. . . .Err, How long is this going to be? I don't know. I don't really ever plan plot arcs in advance, they just sorta pop out. Which is perhaps why I can never seem to end these damned fics. . .   
  
"Shit shit shit!" Soujiro cursed mindlessly as he launched himself at Rui. Soon his words devolved into incoherent grunts as the two men wrestled for control. It was a precarious balance-- all Rui had to do was plunge the needle beneath his skin and at least some of the drug would reach him, though with Soujiro struggling with him so intently, it was highly doubtful that enough would enter his bloodstream to cause the desired effect. On the other hand, Rui could just as easily direct his needle at Soujiro-- sharp enough to pass through flesh like butter, it could undoubtedly do damage if aimed at vulnerable areas-- eyes, lungs. . . and that's not even mentioning the syringe's payload.  
  
The point was soon moot, however. Soujiro was stronger than Rui, and in much better shape, fueled by adrenaline, and not held back from his goal by doubt. One desperate grab, a furious yank, and Soujiro wrested the syringe free from Rui's chilly fingers. From there it took him mere milliseconds to slam the offending device into the floor, and furiously expel Rui's hit into inanimate wood -- a substrate in which it could work no harm.  
  
His chance gone, Rui allowed himself to slump numbly out of Soujiro's grasp, returning his friend's furiously concerned gaze with a blank stare.  
  
"Shit! What the hell is wrong with you?!" Soujiro exploded, his heat a stark contrast to Rui's chill serenity.  
  
"Let it alone."  
  
"I won't let it alone! And now what the fuck are we supposed to do? How can we trust you?"  
  
"I never asked for trust."  
  
Well, that stumped Soujiro. It was true after all. Rui never had asked them for trust, had never tried to pretend like he felt any better. But they had all wanted so hard to believe, wanted so hard to ignore Dr. Makino's warnings, wanted so much for everything to be better than the stony dark reality. So what now could he do? Did Rui have another stash hidden in his room that he'd run for at the first opportunity? Soujiro couldn't just leave him and go to bed. Should he wake Tsukasa and Akira and have them figure out what to do? Akira would have a clue, he was sure. But Tsukasa? Oh shit. No way in hell would Soujiro dare wake him to tell him that Rui had scored, and almost managed to shoot up. No fucking way. Tsukasa would flip, and undoubtedly would become violent. Soujiro shuddered. He couldn't deal with that shit. But Akira -- he always knew what to do. . .  
  
"Get up." Soujiro grabbed Rui's arm to haul him off the couch, "We're going to go talk with Akira."  
  
"He's not home." Rui didn't move an inch.  
  
"Well fuck, where the hell is he?" Soujiro frowned in consternation. Rui's only reply was a vacant silence, and a melancholy stare directed at the ruins of his syringe embedded in the floor.  
  
"Goddamnit!" Soujiro released Rui's arm, and reached for his cellphone. Tonight, however, simply wasn't Soujiro's night, and he cursed again, as Akira's voicemail picked up. His phone was off-- he must have gotten lucky tonight (for Akira always turned his phone off during sex, to avoid unwelcome interruptions.) "At least He's having a good night right now."  
  
Soujiro stepped back, and started to pace the room, only to realize that this made it difficult for him to watch Rui. With an exasperated grunt, he turned again, and threw himself down in a chair, with his head in his hands. Rui had not moved an inch-- in fact, he hardly even seemed involved in his surroundings at all. Soujiro doubted that this was a good sign, and with the first tinges of panic beginning to set in, began to ponder his options. The ER? What would they do? Lock Rui away for observation? What good had that ever done him? He wouldn't hurt himself in the hospital, that much was true. . . But Soujiro didn't think that was a solution-- It wasn't good enough for him at any rate. But they couldn't just watch him here 24/7, either, could they? Right now, Soujiro would settle for just getting through the night, and figuring out what to do when all the F4 were present, awake, and calm. "Fuck it, I can't deal with this shit by myself!" Soujiro muttered. He doubted he could even stay awake all that much longer -- the second the adrenaline wore off, he'd be out cold. "God, I need professional advice." Professional advice. . . At that moment, Soujiro could have smacked himself. Dr. Makino. She cared about Rui more than any of the other doctors; they all knew that. She'd know what to do, right? She had to! And, she was a professional, despite her many disagreeable qualities. . . She would be able to do something!  
  
Soujiro dashed to the kitchen, hardly daring to let Rui out of his sight, but desperate to find the phone book. "Please let her be listed! Please, please." Soujiro begged as he returned to the living room and hastily flipped through the pages. A huge sigh of relief escaped his lips as her name appeared, fortunately the only Makino, T in the phonebook. Strangely, Soujiro never even considered that the doctor might not wake up to answer her phone, or that she might not be pleased to receive such a call at this hour, or that she might not want to help them, for right now, she was the only chance he had. . .  
  
----  
  
Well neither Soujiro nor the taciturn Rui sitting across from him could've possibly imagined the actual scene at Tsukushi's apartment. Soujiro had naturally assumed that the prudish doctor would be asleep in bed, and that he'd be forced to explain, and reexplain himself while she groggily awakened to his call. Instead, the phone was answered on the first ring, Tsukushi's greeting sounding strangely tense, yet with a jarring note of relief, as if the call had rescued her from something she'd rather not be dealing with. (As was indeed the case. Akira was verbally poking and prodding at emotions and neuroses that were, in her opinion, best left undisturbed. The atmosphere was chill and tense. She wanted him to go, to stop picking at her emotional scabs, but he would not be deflected. At the time the phone rang, Tsukushi was curled up on the couch, her robe wrapped tightly around her, while a still unclothed Akira lectured her from the doorway. Not exactly the way she would have liked to spend her Friday night. And then, the ring, the sound cutting through the air like a jolt of electricity, shocking Tsukushi into automatic action. Her hand shot out for the phone resting on the end table; her action signaling an abrupt end to the one sided conversation Akira was doggedly pursuing.)  
  
"Hello? Dr. Makino here. . . . Mr. Nishikado?!" Her brow wrinkled in confusion as the caller, in a panicky tone, introduced himself. Somehow, she'd expected it to be a night nurse at the hospital, confused about the call schedule again, or maybe Yuki, ditched and needing a ride home from wherever she and Soujiro had gone off to. But a call from Mr. Nishikado himself? Tsukushi tensed, expecting to hear of some terrible event affecting Yuki. The breathless exposition that followed, instead, was almost as bad, however, and Tsukushi felt her breath catch and her fingers turn to ice as a chill fear settled over her. She hardly even noticed Akira drifting closer, as if trying to catch the other end of the conversation, or read the details in the uncertain flickering of her brown eyes. "Yes, yes, of course. You were right to call." She quickly resurrected her professional demeanor, "The proper thing to do would be to take Rui to the hospital, they'll admit him for observation overnight. . . What? Yes, he'll probably be recommitted. . . . That's not acceptable? What do you mean? I'm sorry, Mr. Nishikado, but that's the way the system works."  
  
"Fuck the system." Soujiro was adamant. "It didn't work last time, and you know it! They just pretended to fix him and then released him anyway! Please, can't you just come and talk to him? You're the only doctor he's ever listened to! We saw it, you made him smile. If any one can do the job, it's you! Please, just come and see for yourself, that's all I'm asking."  
  
Well, Tsukushi was softhearted, she could hardly resist a plea like that, especially when it concerned her favorite patient. There was even the chance that she could persuade them to bring Rui back to the hospital too -- face to face confrontations always carry more weight than those conducted over the telephone. With a sigh, she acquiesced, "All right, I'll be over in twenty minutes. You just sit tight until then." She hung up the phone with a decisive click, and turned back to Akira, who was watching her with all the intensity of a hawk stalking its prey. "Get dressed, we're going to your house." She ordered stiffly, wondering just how she was going to deal with the embarrassment of everyone knowing she'd screwed Akira. After all, she highly doubted he'd be able to keep his mouth shut -- even if she hadn't intended on bringing him along on her mission to Rui-- only a blind fool would not know what it meant that they returned together. Soujiro was perhaps a fool, of that she was not sure, but he most certainly was not blind. But whatever, there were some things in life more important than dignity. The salvation of a another human's life from its own emotional wreckage was one of those things.  
  
Saving Rui.  
  
That was a goal for which she would have sacrificed almost anything, that she knew. Her dignity, her pride, those were nothing. She'd even sell her soul to the devil if she thought that would cure him. For somehow, like the rest of the F4, Tsukushi had somehow made Rui the symbol of her own torment. If he could be saved from himself, then she too could be healed, so too could Tsukasa, and Soujiro, and all the other walking wounded she'd encountered in her life.  
  
She had to save Rui. Tsukushi was determined. She could not let him fall again.  
  
But she should have realized, the first step to healing others, was to heal herself.  
  
Akira knew, and as he joined Tsukushi in her car, speeding down the deserted city streets, he resolved just what his role would be in saving the band. No longer would he simply be the passive caretaker, picking up the pieces everything the others fell apart. No, this time, he would ensure that they never fell apart again, starting with this prickly, lonely, little doctor driving intently toward her goal. Let her look after the other three, he would take care of her.  
  
At the very least, it would be an interesting challenge.  
  
TBC 


	28. ch 27 in which some get to sleep

. . . . I've totally become one of those ff authors I hate, haven't I? Never updating, never finishing, dragging on and on towards an end no one can see. Man, I fucking suck, and all the excuses in the world can't change that. .. . .  
  
Soujiro slouched moodily in the armchair; his eyes riveted on Rui's face. The seconds ticked by, then minutes, and still the doctor hadn't arrived. Yet Rui's frozen features never changed, his eyes fixed on some point off in space that only he could see, his lips turned down in the faintest hint of a frown, a melancholy wistfulness etched into every angle of his lanky body. Outside, the wind picked up, blowing away the last shreds of the rain clouds, until finally Soujiro heard with relief, the low grumble of a decrepit car, followed soon after by the slamming of doors. . . wait. . . Doors? Soujiro snapped around in confusion at the sound of a key turning in the lock, and the subsequent sight of Akira entering the living room with Dr. Makino following closely behind. Tsukushi was trying to hide her obvious sheepishness behind a steely frown and an analytical gaze that was focused squarely on Rui.  
  
"What happened?" Tsukushi spared no time for even the briefest of greetings, or perhaps she simply wanted to avoid Soujiro's knowing look for as long as possible.  
  
Rui finally glanced up, released at last from his introspective fugue. "I'm tired." He announced blandly, as if Soujiro had not so recently caught him trying to self-administer a lethal heroin overdose. "I'm going upstairs." To his bedroom.  
  
With elaborately staged casualness, he unfolded himself from the couch and stood, pointedly ignoring Soujiro and Akira's uncomprehending grimaces. He paused only at the hall passageway to address Tsukushi, who was still standing, as if frozen, in the center of the living room, "Well. . . . you wanted to talk to me? Aren't you coming?"  
  
"Err. . .Yes!" Tsukushi snapped out of her daze long enough to give Soujiro an absentmindedly reassuring pat on the shoulder before following Rui out of the room.  
  
Akira and Soujiro were left staring blankly at each other in the wake of their passage.  
  
"Did I miss something?" Akira scratched his head, "What just happened?"  
  
"Umm. . . " Soujiro shrugged, "I don't know, but I hope like hell she knows what's going on, 'cause I haven't got a clue. God, Akira, I was scared shitless! I didn't know what to do, when I saw him with that needle! And his face, you should have seen his face, I've never seen anyone look so. . . so desolate. . .not even Tsukasa! . . I'm glad you're home!" He paused, as if to catch his breath, and recover from that intemperate display of emotion, "And speaking of which. . . Your phone was off." It was an accusation, and his eyes deliberately flicked in the direction in which Tsukushi and Rui had just departed.  
  
"Yeah." Akira laughed sheepishly in acknowledgement of the silent question. "Serendipity, you know."  
  
"I can't believe you succeeded where I didn't!"  
  
"Honestly," Akira sighed, "Not much of a success."  
  
"Informationally?" Soujiro cocked an inquisitive eyebrow, "Or are you trying to tell me you didn't actually score with doctor-dearest?"  
  
"Ah, well." Akira plopped himself down in the spot Rui had so recently vacated, "We were right, that woman definitely has problems. She just wouldn't admit what they were. Though, when she lets her guard down, it's almost blindingly obvious. How the hell she rationalizes doing what she does everyday without dealing with her own shit is totally beyond me."  
  
"That's not good." Soujiro grumbled the obvious, "And you're still trusting her with fixing Rui?"  
  
"Do you have a better option?"  
  
"No, not really." Soujiro sagged in defeat, and made a deliberate attempt to change the subject, "So, how was the sex?"  
  
"She faked it!" Akira couldn't conceal his outrage, an outburst that sent Soujiro into peals of near-hysterical laughter as he released the tightly- coiled tension that Rui's state had induced in him.  
  
"Oh hush!" Akira remonstrated, "It wasn't my fault. And how was your date? You obviously got home earlier than usual. . ."  
  
"She ditched me!" Soujiro gasped out between laughs.  
  
"Shit, man." Akira huffed disgustedly, "How are we supposed to keep our playboy reputation when shit like this happens to us?"  
  
"'S'ok," Soujiro rationalized, "You think doc Makino's going to tell anyone? You didn't see the look on her face when you guys walked in together. . ."  
  
"That doesn't exactly help my pride any." Akira grumbled, "A woman should be proud to have caught the attention of the F4."  
  
"Yeah right." Soujiro plainly knew better, "I'm the one they adore, I'm the sexy one. . .you. . . You're the den mother!" The look on Akira's face put Soujiro on the defensive immediately, but it was too late, Akira had already reached his feet and pounced.  
  
"Den Mother?! Den mother?! I'll fucking show you den mother!" he exclaimed, tackling Soujiro to the floor, "I'm the goddamned mature one! Women love that!"  
  
"Old grannies maybe," Soujiro taunted, twisting out of Akira's strangle hold, "But certainly not the young hotties, and certainly not our dearest shrink!"  
  
"Like you did any better!" Akira pursued Soujiro around the couch, "At least I've never had to flee town after finding out the chick I fucked wasn't anywhere near legal age!"  
  
"A simple miscommunication!" Soujiro protested desperately, as Akira brought him to ground again, "It could have happened to anyone."  
  
"Yeah, right," Akira's snort held a note of finality, as did his posture; kneeling over a pinned Soujiro. "I win."  
  
"Yeah, yeah." Soujiro grumbled as Akira finally eased up, allowing him to regain his feet with a show of dusting off his clothes. "Do you think they're ok up there?" A worried glance at the ceiling directed vaguely towards Rui's room.  
  
"I hope so." Akira grimaced.  
  
"How does she do it?" Soujiro suddenly sounded lost and confused, "I mean, the doc. You know, you said it yourself, she's fucked in the head, so how does she stay so calm around Rui? I was totally freaked out, he was acting like I didn't exist, but she just walks in here and his whole attitude changes. Like they had telepathy or something. And then they both acted like we didn't exist. Like his indifference is infectious! Is it a good thing? Are they talking up there? What can she do different from what they already tried? I. . . I just want it to all turn out all right."  
  
"So do I. So do I." Akira reaffirmed wistfully, before continuing briskly, "Come on. It's late, let's get you to bed, while I go check on our lost children."  
  
"Yes mother!" Soujiro mock-saluted before turning and following Akira up the stairs.  
  
-----  
  
Rui's stark room was curiously quiet, as Rui and Tsukushi settled in for a little Talk. Rui threw himself haphazardly across the bed, allowing his eyes to drift almost closed, while Tsukushi settled herself into a precarious perch on the top of a low bookshelf.  
  
"Rui, Rui." She shook her head sadly, "What are we going to do with you?"  
  
"Let me go?" In their near-privacy, Rui allowed himself to drop his cold monotone for a sort of ironic despondency.  
  
"You know I can't do that." Tsukushi sighed, "I don't want you back on the streets, or dead."  
  
"What about what I want?" Rui's slitted eyes drifted over to watch Tsukushi with a hidden intensity.  
  
"Do you even know what you want?" Tsukushi pressed the issue.  
  
"At least as well as you." Rui calmly replied, even as he inwardly noted, with some surprise, how easily the volatile young doctor always found it to draw him out of his shell, even when he wanted to resist.  
  
"And what's that supposed to mean?" Tsukushi could feel her cheeks starting to heat with embarrassment. Nevertheless, she was unwilling to terminate a conversation which Rui was not only taking an active part, but showing an interest in something other than his own solipsism.  
  
"Oh, you know. . ." Rui waved a dismissive hand, "You obviously came here from a tryst with Akira. . . "  
  
"So What?" Tsukushi bristled defensively, even as Rui continued  
  
". . .But I always thought it was me you had a thing for." Strangely, he reverted to his monotone, as if trying to imply that this subject was the least interesting thing in the world. Though, to Tsukushi's ears, it almost had a plaintive, lonely sound. None of which prevented her cheeks from flaming crimson at the accusation.  
  
"You're my patient!" she sputtered, "I only want what's best for you!"  
  
"So you do like Akira?"  
  
". . .No!" Tsukushi glowered, furious that her lips had formed this simple syllable rather than the 'none of your business!' she'd intended to say.  
  
"Ah. Well then." Rui closed his eyes in what some might mistake as a satisfied manner, before opening them once more to opaquely regard the young doctor. He'd come to a decision. He would not die tonight. There was no good reason for his decision, he thought, But. . . He felt a kinship with Tsukushi; they were both hurting, lonely, and confused, and it would be rude to impose his corpse upon her after she'd gone through so much trouble to come here at this ungodly hour. A few weeks or months ago, he wouldn't've cared who was inconvenienced by his death. But now, it was only one more irritating consideration tying him down to this miserable plane of existence.  
  
None of this, of course, did he communicate to Tsukushi. Instead, he let himself relax back into the bed, feeling his physical exhaustion rise up to overwhelm him. Gradually, he let his breathing slow into the deeply even breaths of sleep, feeling more relaxed, more secure somehow, in knowing that the doctor was watching over him.  
  
For her part, Tsukushi drooped miserably on her perch, her dull eyes barely registering on the fact that Rui had fallen asleep. It was 4 AM. In two hours she'd have to go to the hospital for her morning rounds. Sleep was not a luxury she herself could afford this night.  
  
After a few minutes spent in meditative silence, Tsukushi shook herself awake, and shifted position to settle herself at the edge of the bed, so that she could more closely examine Rui's sleeping features, as if that would give her some better hint or clue on what to do with this troublesome case. Absently, her hand reached out in a habitual gesture of comfort to lightly rest upon Rui's own chilly fingers.  
  
A few minutes later, when Akira hesitantly peered in through the half-open door, they were still in this position: Rui sleeping deeply, while Tsukushi brooded at his side.  
  
"Hey." He greeted softly, grimacing when Tsukushi hardly even glanced up in acknowledgement. "Is he gonna be all right?" With a concerned nod at Rui.  
  
"For now." Tsukushi sighed wearily.  
  
"And you?" In the same tone of voice.  
  
"Need caffeine." Neutrally, avoiding the actual implied question.  
  
Akira shrugged in defeat, "Coffee or tea?"  
  
"Coffee." Tsukushi mumbled, "Then you go to sleep, I have to go to work in two hours, and you get to take my place here then. . . Unless you want me to take Rui to the hospital with me when I leave?"  
  
"Leave? You are coming back here later, yes?"  
  
"Has it occurred to you that I might have to sleep sometime?"  
  
"And here I thought you were a doctor!" Akira joked. "It's a well known fact that those in the medical profession don't actually need sleep!"  
  
"I wish." Tsukushi growled tiredly. "Just get me some coffee I'll be back to check on Rui after everyone -- including myself -- has slept! I don't want any of you suffering from sleep deprivation's degradation of your cognitive function."  
  
"I don't think you need caffeine, if you're awake enough to use so many big words at the same time."  
  
"Hmph." Tsukushi turned back to Rui, effectively shutting out Akira's intrusion into her reality.  
  
Akira simply sighed softly, and went to fetch the coffee, wondering, as he did so, just what it was about Rui and no one else that seemed to have such a humanizing effect on the young doctor.  
  
-----  
  
The lonely minutes ticked by, Akira had long since left Tsukushi with her coffee and her sleeping charge and gone to join Soujiro in a deep, yet troubled slumber. Elsewhere in the house, Tsukasa turned restlessly in his own bed, as if rocked by the gusts of wind that continued to whip down the deserted streets and between the decaying buildings of this shabby neighborhood. Tsukushi alone remained awake, if only just barely, longing for a sleep that she knew would be no more peaceful than that of the men around her.  
  
She could only hope that morning would soon arrive.  
  
TBC  
  
. . . . . not my most inspired chapter ever, eh? Oh well. c'est la vie. . . . 


	29. ch 28 in which morning arrives

- - - This chapter is brought to you courtesy of Wednesday beer and free wings night. Somehow, crap beer seems to help when nothing else can. Either that, or I'm just finally pissed off enough now to put out a chapter. Who the hell cares? Here it is. - - -

Tsukasa woke slowly, feeling as though he had not slept at all. The lingering scent of coffee caught his attention as he focused bleary eyes on his bedside clock. Five-thirty AM?!! Who the bloody fuck was awake at this hour? Tsukasa would have chalked the smell to his imagination, and attempted to return to sleep had he not noticed the faint glimmer of light shining beneath his bedroom door. Someone had been down the hallway recently and failed to turn the lights off after themselves.

"Energy wasting idiots." Tsukasa grumbled, shutting his eyes and trying to relax. But sleep would not return to him. Not with that tantalizing scent of caffeine lingering in his nostrils, and those few photons of light pricking at his retinas. Grumpily, he rolled out of bed, and stumbled out into the hall, blinking bloodshot eyes against the light. Cautiously, he sniffed the air, as if in imitation of a bloodhound homing in on the source of his disturbance. Really, though, he needn't have bothered with the sniffing routine; it was obvious, as soon as his eyes woke up enough to focus, that the only door open was Rui's, and the light was on. "But Rui doesn't even like coffee!" Tsukasa muttered to himself as he prepared to storm through into the other man's bedroom.

"Wha. . . " He had opened his mouth to berate Rui for his early wakening, and to demand, in his own caring, if exceptionally gruff way, if anything was the matter, but when he pushed through the doorway, the words caught in his throat.

Tsukushi looked up wearily from the contemplation of her coffee, too tired to attempt her own conversational gambit. Not that she really had any great desire to explain herself to the man she considered little better than a bully, anyway. What did she care what he thought to find her sitting here in his house, in the middle of the night, drinking coffee, one small hand still gripping Rui's in a reassuring clasp.

"Shhhh. . ." She admonished softly when Tsukasa recovered enough from his surprise to start showing signs of erupting in some sort of ungodly tantrum. "Don't wake him. It's better for him to stay asleep for now."

Tsukasa blinked, opened his mouth to bitch her out for trying to tell him what to do, then closed again with a snap as he realized she was probably right. With a visible effort, he reigned in his tone, trying to speak as quietly as she had, "What is going on here? What are you doing in our house? Who invited you in? And why are you holding Rui's hand?! Damnit, I wanted to talk to you after the show, what the hell were you doing running off like that? . . "

"Oh shut up." Tsukushi snapped when Tsukasa's volume control began to fail, and when he showed no sign of ceasing his line of questioning any time soon. "I am here, because Mr. Hanazawa (she spoke with deliberate formality, her voice clipped and terse as she fought to not lose her temper) is having what you might call a bit of a crisis. More specifically, because Mr. Nishikado called me in a bit of a panic an hour or so ago. If you wish to know more, ask him yourself, or Rui, when he awakens. Better yet, go downstairs and take a look at the living room. I believe the evidence there speaks for itself. Now go away and leave me alone. Rui needs his sleep and I have to be at work in under an hour. "

Tsukasa scowled fiercely, and was about to open up in equally angry tirade, when he happened to meet her gaze directly. Something in those large brown eyes, glaring so intently, like a mother lion defending her cubs, was strangely compelling, and before he even knew what he was doing, he found himself giving a curt nod in acknowledgement, and turning away to reenter the hall and descend the stairs to see just what in hell she was talking about.

Down in the living room, Tsukasa fumbled for the light switch, shaking his head in the warm yellow glow that ensued, as if to clear his mind of the premonitions of disaster that Dr. Makino's words had instilled. Unfortunately the nagging sense of worry, was, in this case, entirely justified, as Tsukasa slowly focused on the light glinting off the needle, bent and broken, that Soujiro had left impaled in the floorboards. The damp patch, the evaporated poison that had spewed from the syringe, still evident in the dark circle with the glistening needle at its epicenter.

"Shit." Was all Tsukasa's clenched throat could force out, his face purpling in rage, and in fear, as his pulse began to speed. He had truly thought that they might have a chance, that Rui was well on the way to recovery, and that the hope that that engendered would in turn, help him to go someplace other than down. But no. No. NO. Hope was a lie. It was all a lie, when fate could turn so quickly to bite him in the ass.

Tsukasa slumped heavily to the floor, face twisted with a creeping sense of despair. If he had been alone in the house, he might have allowed himself to cry. As it was, he instinctively felt himself yearning for that bottle of whisky in the kitchen. Even now, he could almost imagine the smooth burn as it made its way down his throat, the calming numbness as it spread throughout his body.

"No!" With an epic act of willpower, Tsukasa squelched the craving gnawing at his soul. Succumbing now would make him no better than Rui. He took one deep breath, and then another, willing himself to calm down for just a little while longer, long enough to take action, and do what was necessary.

-----------

"We need to talk." Tsukasa stood once more outside Rui's bedroom door, his voice low and harsh as he faced the exhausted doctor once more.

"Can it wait?" Tsukushi sighed, "I Have to go to work, and someone needs to stay with Rui, until you figure out if he's got any more heroin stashed away. Unless you want to bring him back to the rehab center for another go round?" It was obvious from the resignation in her voice that she asked more out of habit, than of any real hope that anyone in this household would take her advice.

"No." Tsukasa replied shortly, "This won't take more than five minutes." He jerked his head impatiently, to indicate they should relocate this little tete a tete to the hallway.

Tsukushi bit her lip, torn between the desire to stay with Rui and watch over him, like the guardian angel she so wanted to be for all of her patients, and the fear that if she didn't acquiesce in this, that Tsukasa would drag her bodily out of the room. After all, he'd directed his scorn at her before, and she'd felt the force of his grip. And this was no public place where she could escape from his overbearing demeanor. She glanced once more at Rui's sleeping form; his relaxed face, almost angelic in its unconscious serenity, his long callused fingers still entwined with her free hand, like that of a trusting child.

Tsukushi's lip twitched down in a sad frown. Awake, Rui would be bitter, sarcastic, cold. He didn't really care what she did for him, ignored the sacrifices she made on his behalf. Mr. Dounyouji, on the other hand; he cared. He was an overbearing, arrogant lout, but he cared, in his way, at least as much as she did. She might hate him, hate his attitude, his manners, and his demands (why did he insist on seeing her for therapy, anyway, when all he did was curse and yell?), but at least he cared. For that, at least, he deserved a slice of her attention.

Gently, she freed her fingers, one by one, from Rui's relaxed clasp, set her coffee down on the desk, and followed Tsukasa out into the hall. Tsukasa, for his part, had no intention of keeping his voice down, and so, led Tsukushi down to his spartan room, where he could rant to his heart's content without waking the rest of the band.

"What the fuck are we supposed to do now?" He burst out the second the door was safely shut. "Those fuckers at the clinic, Sketchybrook, or whatever the fuck it was called said he'd be ok! I hardly let him out of my sight for five minutes last night! How the fuck did he get his hands on more of that shit so bloody quickly? We can't watch him 24-7! And what the hell were they doing telling us he was cured? Fuck! Why didn't you warn us? Can I sue those incompetent fucks!"

Tsukushi wanted to tell him to calm down, to think rationally for a second instead of rambling on in this confused and somehow plaintive way. But she could sympathize. She knew how hard it was to watch Rui fall and fall again. Hadn't she done it herself enough times already? Sometimes, it felt, even to her, that the cycle could only end with his death. But now was neither the time nor the place to be airing her own fears. "I did discuss this with Mr. Mimasaka last week, as I'm sure he conveyed to you. Personally, I felt that the staff at Shadybrook was making a huge mistake in releasing Rui. I told them so, in fact. In no uncertain terms. However, the problem you see, is, the director there felt that I possessed, as you yourself have accused me of," and here she faltered for a second, unsure of why she was even bringing this up with a man who seemed to dislike her almost as much as she disliked him, ". . a certain. . lack of objectivity. . . in this matter, and that they were better qualified to make decisions on Mr. Hanazawa's behalf. Besides which, " She shrugged in dismissive contempt at the thought she was trying to convey, "He'd been fully detoxed. There was no biological reason for him to crave opiates any more. "

Tsukasa continued glaring impassively at her, as if were somehow all her fault, this mess that they were in. But Tsukushi was having none of it. How hard had she tried to keep Rui in clinic? How hard had she fought? And this arrogant asshole in front of her appreciated none of it. Saw only what he wanted to see; that she was the villain. And their little dysfunctional 'family' the victim of her and the whole broken system of which she was a part.

"Fuck you." Tsukushi spat, "I can see what you're thinking. So go ahead, blame me if you want to. Take him to any other psychiatrist you want. But watch, he'll fool them all. I saw it happen at Shadybrook, and he'll just do it again. But if you're going to blame me, then don't call me in the middle of the night and expect me to come running again. I have work to do, you know." This last was a transparent bluff, she could only hope that Tsukasa was too unobservant to see through her.

Indeed, Tsukasa's glare had changed, softened almost, as he regarded her more quizzically now, as if he was struggling to process her words. The truth was close enough, he was caught in a daze of memory, recalling how much more _Real _Rui seemed to be when in her presence. The way his frozen, iced calm melted into the fiery retorts after Dr. Makino had poked and prodded at his worst emotional wounds. Or how his laugh had sounded, the one time Tsukasa had overheard the tail end of one of their sessions. Or how just a few minutes ago, he'd seen Rui sleeping peacefully, for the first time since he'd come to the house. Only in the presence of the diminutive doctor. Almost paradoxically, he felt a spasm of renewed fury pulse through him. Damnit, it should have been him, it should have been them. The four of them, Akira and Soujiro, Himself and Rui. They should have been enough for each other. The shouldn't need this. . . this. . . Outsider in their affairs.

But then Tsukasa deflated. Some things couldn't be helped. Sometimes you had to play with the cards you were dealt. And like that, he came to a decision.

"Rui needs professional care. We're Not committing him again. He needs to have someone around who makes him want to try." Tsukasa scowled, hating having to admit the next bit, "That person is you. You need to stay here and help make him right again." There. That sounded final enough. Right?

"Errr. . .What?" Tsukushi shook her head. She couldn't possibly have heard what she thought she did. Even if she had. . . What??

"I want you to live here and provide psychiatric services for Rui. As in, all day availability. Not just in your fucking spare time. Your presence could make the crucial difference. . ." Tsukasa ground out, forcing himself to rein in his impatience, "For all of us." Meaning himself as well.

"I can't do that!" Tsukushi burst out in a knee jerk reaction. "I have to work 12 hours a day, sometimes more! I can't add on any more than that, If you want to see me, make an appointment at the hospital. Or come to the ER. I'm there most all the time. I should be there right now. I have patients who need me." How could he possibly expect her to do more than that? Hadn't she done so much already outside the call of her duties. And even if she hadn't -- Live here? Live _Here_? He had to be out of his mind. Even if he hadn't threatened her, even if she liked any of them besides Rui-- She couldn't live with them, She'd slept with Akira! How could she live that down? And they knew Junpei; she didn't even know if she could forgive them that. Surely Tsukasa was joking? Had to be.

"No." Once Tsukasa's mind was made up, it wasn't going to change. "We need you more."

"Err. . . I work in the ER?" Tsukushi was beginning to get more than slightly annoyed. Again. "You know, as in Emergency? Life and death situations? All my patients need me. Who are you to go around saying your life is more important than the 20 or 30 people I'll be seeing this morning?"

"There are other shrinks for them." Tsukasa shrugged, "But you're the only one Rui will accept." And what was good enough for Rui was good enough for him, even if she was hell-annoying, and not exactly sane, herself.

Tsukushi could see this argument was going nowhere fast. "Look. I'm a junior resident at city hospital. Even if I wanted to devote my life, 24 hours a day to you two? Three? Four?" (And no way in hell did she want to). "I couldn't. Residency is like a training period. We're still learning, still not fully certified yet. You can't pass the state licensing exam without completing the training. Like every other doctor in the country. I have to be in the hospital. I was accepted to city hospital and I have to finish the program if I want to practice on my own." (Even if they did give her the shit cases, and crap she wasn't properly trained to deal with, and made her provide menial services such as nurses at any other hospital would take care of.) With a visible effort, she wrenched her attention back to the matter at hand, concluding with a decisive, "And that's just the way it is. Now, I really have to get to work. You, sir, should go stay with Mr. Hanazawa until your friends are awake. If you have any more questions, you know where to find me."

And that should have been the end of it. Facts were facts. She had a contract to fulfill, a job to do. A petulant command couldn't change that, even if the plaintive hope in that rough demand did pull at her heart; leaving an ache in her chest that wouldn't go away. Oh yes, as if she needed another reason for this to be a shitty day. It was almost enough to make her cry, as she pulled her battered car into the hospital parking lot. Though, she told herself firmly, that that was just the sleep deprivation. Walking out of that house had ended the discussion. Flatly and finally. That was the end of Mr. Doumyouji's insane proposition. It really should have been. . .

But she hadn't counted on Mr. Doumyouji. Oh yes, a serious underestimation.

Even as Tsukushi pulled herself together, assembling the fragments of her strained and tired psyche once more into the competent and brisk persona that the world knew as 'Dr. Makino,' Tsukasa was on the computer. He was a Doumyouji, A strong proud family, with a tradition of always getting their way. He might have forsaken the family business for the feckless life of a rock star, but that didn't mean he didn't have the intuitive skills. . . Not to mention the personal resources. Things he hadn't touched in years, things he'd never discussed with the rest of the guys. But now, Now was the time to bring his personal assets into play. Now he had a mission.

As sun crept higher, and the clock at last struck nine, Tsukasa turned from Rui's desk, his eyes fixed on the sleeping man's shadowed features, his hand clenched tightly around his phone; the first number of many, dialed, waiting for a connection.

It was time to get to work.

TBC.

- - - Hah! I am the master of the slow moving plot! I laugh at those who want me to pick up the pace. What do I care for action? Nothing! 99% of life is composed of slowness and inaction. Sitting around at work, or walking down the street, alone in your own head. Why should my story progress any faster? Oh yes, to make it more exciting. Fuck that shit. To skip from highlight to highlight, that makes life shallow, and somehow, I have always felt, less truthful, You have to acknowledge the long flat spaces as well as the peaks, the thrills, and the pits of despair. Have I said this before? Probably. Fuck it.

Ok, responses to reviewers.

Fresh8: I finally updated! Sorry it took so long, I've known for months and months what the next few chapters are supposed to be like, but somehow I never quite find the time or the attention span to continue. I do apologize.

Sheen: Thank you so much for your always kind reviews. I have to admit, I've been naughty again -- been reading crossroads without reviewing. But its always a highlight of my week when you post a new chapter. One of these days I promise I'll get off my sorry ass and write a real review or two or three :)

Psycho mime: We likes the big words here. . . (at least to write, I can't use them in conversation 'cause at the speeds I talk, no one understands a word I'm saying.) People who appreciate my angst make me happy!

Rokusan: I'm glad you're enjoying the plot twists. I did have an idea, once upon a time, exactly how everything was going to be resolved, I think. But in the meantime, I'll probably keep adding more 'cause that's what makes life interesting. Hopefully by the next time you read this there'll be a few more chapters of silliness!

Kobayashi Eiko: Oh dear, the one reviewer who upset me. Maybe I was just having a bad day when I read this, but I was annoyed nevertheless. What happened to Tsukasa? he appears when it's time for him to be present. Yes it's slow moving. All my stories are. That's just the way I write. It can't be helped, I don't believe in editing and never have. As for solving conflicts before starting new ones-- do you ever solve all of your issues before life tosses more shit at you? I never quite seem to manage. It's what makes things interesting after all: the interplay and interrelationships of your inner/outer conflicts, and those of all the people around you. I may be stuck on my other fics (That is, I know I'm stuck on Idiots and am still in process of rewriting several chapters from scratch, and I just don't feel like dealing with Wind even though I know where it has to go) But Wounded is not one of those. It has a direction, and the plot doesn't really shift so much (in my mind at least) as everything that occurs is either related by theme or by cause/effect to something that has happened before in character's lives or to something that will happen. I may be uninspired to hack out the actual chapters, but the twists to date were pretty much all set in my mind before I even wrote the first chapter. Eh, I'll stop ranting now, as I assume no one's foolish enough to have continued to read to this point anyway. (plus I need to go spellcheck this shit and post it ASAP so I can get some sleep before I have to get up at 4fucking30 am to go to work tomorrow. Nothing worse than catching the first bus in the morning and waiting alone at the stop, just me and the scary winos who won't stop talking. . .


	30. ch 29 in which money is used

"Oof." Tsukasa grunted wearily, while hanging up the phone, after his fifth, or maybe sixth, call. God, how he hated talking to his lawyer. Almost as much as he hated dealing with his accountant (and oh, how his friends would kill him if they even knew about his personal money-manager, and the funds he oversaw. . . Although, it was true, they had to suspect something. After all, they knew his background, and had never quite bought the story that his parents had disowned him as the Nishikados has done to poor 'Jiro.) Still, he would've felt wrong, somehow, using the band's dwindling cash supply to pay for this kind of manipulation.

"You can solve any problem," His mother had once said, "With enough money, used correctly." Laws become optional, immutable obstacles melt away. Your deepest enemies become your slaves. Morality evaporates. All it required was money, and the death of the soul. For who could bear to deploy such a destructive force with their soul intact? Not Tsukasa. It was part of the reason he'd thrown it all away to form the band. Sure, the F4 had its own wealth, but it wasn't the same, wasn't wielded with the same brutal efficiency for the sake of making more money, buying more power. Once he'd been able to obey his mother's will. Once he'd been primed and ready to take over the company. He'd seen money as a tool, he'd thrown it away, and laughed at the poor.

College had changed all that. He still liked having money. Liked being able to spend it as he pleased, but after watching classmates working part time jobs to make ends meet, or dropping out 'cause they couldn't afford tuition hikes; after seeing students who wouldn't eat for days on end because they'd run out of money before end-end-of-the-month payday, he finally learned to respect money. Now he could understand that the life-or-death struggle that so many faced daily on account of not having enough money, was what made it so powerful. Once, he wouldn't have cared, but the faces of his classmates, his dormmates, and the people he passed on the street brought the reality so close, so real. He couldn't look away. It wore him down, until, one day, not long after the band had recorded its first demo, played its first tiny gig, he swore never again to touch his family's tainted wealth.

His mother hadn't understood. She'd thought she could buy back his loyalty with more money. So, instead of cutting off his funding, as Soujiro's family had done, she showered him with more wealth. Sent him presents, established trust funds; so sure that he'd grow out of this so-called rebellious phase and rejoin the family, succumb obediently to her will like the trained wolf he was supposed to be. Yeah, right. Tsukasa hadn't touched a cent of her tainted money. Until now. After all, he figured the cause was worthy enough, but the means. . . Oh. The means would be dirty and underhanded enough to warrant the use of his mother's money. Kaede would be so Proud.

Tsukasa grit his teeth and shook his head at that disgusting thought. It had taken him years to realize what a terrible being his ice-cold, manipulative, elitist bitch of a mother truly was, Hard to believe sometimes, that she was human. One thing she had been though, was a good teacher Tsukasa remembered her lessons well.

The first several calls had been to set up the framework for his action. First, a call to his accountant, to see how much money he actually had. It was almost frightening to see how well his trust fund had done in recent years, despite the general poor trends in the stock market. Not a surprise though, his mother had always hired the best, and the best were never above a little insider trading. It worked. Too, it helped that his sister had left him a ridiculous sum of money on her death. In the end, Tsukasa's net worth was several tens of millions of dollars. Totally excessive for one person. But just about perfect for what he wanted to achieve, if you believed in overkill.

His second call, to his lawyer. Talk about big money donation. How such things were structured. Legal issues, what stipulations you could or couldn't tag on. Engaged him in a fascinating discussion on the medical establishment in this state. Left him furiously typing notes on the computer. Wanted results by midafternoon at the latest.

A third call, to old family contacts-- sources best left unnamed. Their skill: investigation. Just in case a little extra incentive would be needed, a little blackmail. The feelings of his targets were immaterial, that was what Mother had always said, Results are the only thing that matter. Well, he would get results.

Finally, a call to the president of the hospital. A hospital, even a ghetto teaching hospital as this one was, is a corporation like any other. And like all corporations, easy to manipulate. You just gotta know what it is they want. Medical equipment? New facilities? Need an endowment so they can hire that hot-shot neurosurgeon from the competitor across town? Yeah, easy. But first, You have to get past the secretary, with her ever-so-polite but firm, "I'm sorry sir, but Dr. Hammond isn't available." (Read, the old fart is too hungover to come in on a Saturday, or maybe, he's still in the hotel with whatever cute little candystriper he's seduced this week. . .) Tsukasa's solution to this was simple, of course. The mention of money matters, and how he'd like to make a gift of so many millions, but before he could make a decision on which hospital to give to, he needed to talk to the president, and if he wasn't in the office today, could he call him at home? So easy. Got the home number, called it. Had a nice long chat with the man, while perusing the oh-so-fascinating document his highly efficient investigators had emailed him. Knew exactly which buttons to push. Not like the man seemed to have many scruples anyway, at least judging by what the investigators had to say. Called the lawyer again, to get everything in writing. Called the money-manager to have a few assets liquidated and sent in the right directions. Took a deep breath, closed his eyes. Dropped the phone. Let out a long sigh. His parched throat needed water.

"Oof." That said it all.

The slow soft clapping brought him back to himself. He'd forgotten that he wasn't in his own room, but was supposed to be watching Rui. Reluctantly, Tsukasa opened his eyes to see Rui, in bed still, propped up on one elbow, clapping, his elegant eyebrow arched in what might have been amusement. "A fine and fascinating performance." Was his dry critique. "Was it all for me? Really, you needn't have gone through so much trouble."

"Fucker," Tsukasa growled, (and oh, how it was so good to be able to curse and snarl after a morning of empty politeness and hollow civilities.) "You shut up now before I kill you myself."

"Not much of an incentive, that." Rui lay back again, his arms crossed behind his head, his eyes once more gone dark and unreadable, as his pale face smoothed into a cold mask. "Shall I assume your presence here means you've been informed? Should I expect the troops to show up at any moment to tear my room apart? Nothing like a little search and seizure to spice up the morning."

"Shut up!" Tsukasa slammed his fists down into the desk. If the other men weren't awake by this late hour, then surely that shout would have jolted them from their bed. "I trusted you! And this is how you repay me? The most selfish man I've ever met! I've fucking had it up to here with you and your self-pity act. If I have to, I'll tie you up and feed you through a tube. You're not allowed to fucking kill yourself and leave us here! Goddamnit!"

"And you call me selfish." Rui closed his eyes again, looking for all the world like he was about to tune out Tsukasa's incipient explosion and return to sleep, "Akira fucked your precious little doctor, you know. She's not going to appreciate your little machinations on my behalf any more than I do."

And with that, Tsukasa really did explode. "He WHAT?! Akira you Shit!" It just went downhill from there. Rui, for his part, pretended to ignore the whole damn thing, telling himself over and over again that he didn't care. That none of it concerned him. Nothing mattered but Shizuka, and the empty hole in his life. But, this morning, like a startling number of others in the recent days, with sun streaming through the rainwashed skies, and Tsukasa's and Akira's fight shaking the house, he couldn't quite make himself believe it. Despite himself, he found his thoughts turning towards Tsukushi; the way the energetic doctor had sat by him in the wee hours of the morning, despite her own exhaustion, the way her small fingers warmed his cold hands, the way she so obviously suffered for him. For his sake. Somehow, it bothered him more, the sad look she got when he disappointed her again and again, than it did when his friends got the same way. Was it because despite their shared loss, he still believed they didn't truly understand the way he felt? Though, why should she be any different?

Because she ached for him, because of him, and not for her own loss. It mattered that she cared for him, an obstinate stranger, a charity case, a nobody whom no one else would bother with. His friends only cared because they couldn't live with out him, not because they wanted his happiness for him. They wanted his happiness for themselves.

"Shit." Rui snarled his whisper, glad that no-one else could hear, "I should have scored a little more." To be so close to oblivion, and yet so very far, and getting farther all the time. Soon, he wouldn't even be able to remember Shizuka's voice. And what would the point of all this wasted effort be then? Better to sleep now, and hope he still saw her in his dreams.

Rui wasn't the only one having a rough morning. Back in the hospital, Tsukushi stumbled about her duties in a lackluster way, thankful that the sunny change in the weather seemed to be keeping people away from the ER (Somehow, like shopping malls, hospitals always grew busier when the weather was shit. After all, who wants to spend a nice day in the waiting room when they could be out in the park?). However, the patients that were here, were the toughest cases. As always, it seemed, the nightshift had left the most recalcitrant individuals for her to deal with, a handful of inadequately scrawled notes her only resource as she ventured from one exam room to the next. And after that, her usual rounds of the psych, ward. The same old roundup as ever. Someday, she'd figure out just what it would take to keep so many of these lost souls from returning again and again. Almost like prison, she sometimes thought in her more morose moments; once you've been locked up here once, your chances of returning increase almost exponentially. At least the people she saw for evaluation in the ER, or even the outpatients she dealt with on weekdays often gave cause for optimism and hope. But not these. And, just as in the ER; she noted that her assignments were, as usual, the most difficult to reason with, the most resistant to treatment.

Maybe she, herself, was getting a little paranoid. Surely, everyone else had to deal with the same crap. Tsukushi tried to tell herself that she was just feeling disgruntled after her emotionally rocky, and sleepless night. But even so, she couldn't quite shake the feeling that it was not all in her head.

And then, not long after noon (and another missed lunch), she got a Summons. A harried-looking nurse ran up to Tsukushi as she was dictating a case report. "The chief wants to see you!" she exclaimed, almost gleefully. (the nurse in question was not a great fan of Dr. Makino -- thought her quiet reserve was some kind of stuck-up snobbery. The usual nonsense.)

"Err? What?" Tsukushi was a bit slow on the uptake today. "Isn't it Saturday? What's he doing here?"

"Came in 'specially to see you. What'd you do wrong? Man, you must've fucked up big time."

Tsukushi shot the spiteful woman a look that promised a long and painful death. "Mind your own business, you nosy bitch." She replied shortly, quietly enjoying the look of utter shock that crossed the other woman's face. Man, it felt good to get back, just a little. Hell, if she was in trouble serious enough for the Chief of Psychiatry to come in and chew her out, in person, on a Saturday of all things, then it didn't matter what she did now. It was almost a relief to think this, a respite from the hell this hospital had been for her for the past two years. Still, by the time she reached Dr Killjoi's office, she was feeling quite nervous, her empty stomach flip-flopping in worried anticipation, as she struggled to think just what she might have done wrong.

Tsukushi timidly knocked on the open door, and peered cautiously into the spacious office. "You wanted to see me, sir?" She mentally kicked herself for the way her voice seemed to stick in her throat.

"Yes, yes, come in, Tsukushi. Have a seat." Well, he seemed in a good mood at least. Tsukushi sank into the proffered chair and pulled herself together enough to meet his eyes without any visible tremor of discomfort. With hardly any preamble, Dr. Killjoi began, "You've done very well here, haven't you?" It was a rhetorical question, and he continued, "Since you started your internship two years ago, you've shown great promise. Your preceptors say you learned quickly, and don't shirk your caseloads like some of your fellows." Here he paused, as if in expectation.

"Thank you, sir." Tsukushi replied cautiously, still not quite certain just what he was getting at.

"Mmmm. . . " He continued, almost as if he hadn't heard, "In fact, I've heard reports that you've gone a little too far covering for your friends."

Tsukushi let out a startled "Uh?" She had friends here?

"Yes. You are aware that this is a Teaching hospital, aren't you?"

"Err... Yes..." It would sot of have to be, given the medstudents and interns running around everywhere.

"Well, your fellows can hardly learn anything if you're doing all their work for them, now can they?"

"But. . ." Tsukushi was about to protest. It was not like she wanted to handle their patients. . But someone had to take up the slack, else it was the ill who suffered, and where was the justice in that?

"And also." He looked down at her over the rim of his glasses, "I've heard reports of your rather. . .unorthodox. . . approach to counseling some of your tougher patients."

"Erk." Not much she could say to that, if he'd heard about her tendency to yell and argue with them, her inability to maintain the sane, smooth, modulated, and disgustingly condescending tones that so many psychiatrists were known for.

"But it seems to work." Dr. Killjoi frowned briefly, as if he wasn't sure how to proceed next. Tsukushi had had enough of waiting, and solved his problem on her own.

"If you don't mind me asking, what is all this about? Has there been a complaint? A malpractice suit? What?"

Dr Killjoi let out an almost audible sigh of relief, glad that he no longer had to tiptoe up to the issue. "I got a call from the president this morning. Seems that the hospital is doing a little reorganization in the wake of a rather large and unexpected donation. One of the stipulations inherent in the donation, is that the hospital has acquired an affiliation, if you will, with a private err. . . clinic. Umm . ." Again he trailed off, as if at a loss for words, or he couldn't quite believe the nonsense he'd been dragged in here to convey.

"But what does this have to do with me?" Tsukushi had a bad, bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. Worse even than the butterflies.

"Yes well. This. . . clinic. . . Apparently it's new, and in need of staffing. So, you're being reassigned. The president asked for you specifically. He must've heard of your commendable diligence." Trying to sugarcoat the bitter pill. She was being shuffled off to someplace in the boonies, wasn't she?

"Who. . . Who else will I be working with?" At least let her see who else was getting shafted the same way.

"Well, ah. Yes. You will continue to report, as usual, to Dr. Wen. But, it was felt that with your training and experience, that no one else was needed. . ."

At this Tsukushi's temper finally snapped. "What the hell?" she flared, "What the hell kind of nonsense is this? I'm trained for dual diagnosis and emergency psych. I'm needed in the ER. What kind of clinic is this? Who in their right mind would visit a place staffed by one half-trained resident! That's not just stupid, it's insane. Even for a free clinic in the ghetto. And what about my training? I applied to city hospital because it had one of the best dual-diagnosis centers in the country, and now you're telling me that I can't do that anymore? You want me to ruin my career? I'm useful in the ER, you said it yourself. I have patients, responsibilities. . ." She paused for breath, looked up to see what effect, if any, her words had had on him.

"Now, calm down." Dr Killjoi tried again to sweeten the news. "It was thought that you would be ideal for a position of such independence and responsibility. Looking at your files, it appears that you have learned almost all we could teach you here. You've put in more hours than any of the other residents, and I see you've been tackling, with some success, many of the more hopeless cases. Here, you'd be able to spend more focused time with just a few patients. Perhaps you could polish your skills of rapport." He frowned, noticing the highly skeptical look on Tsukushi's face, and all of a sudden his condescending manner evaporated. "And besides. We haven't any choice."

"What?!" Tsukushi couldn't believe her ears, "What do you mean?"

Dr. Killjoi's lips twitched up in a sardonic smile. "Look Tsukushi. If I had my way. I'd shuffle off Dan, or Lisa, or any of the other fellows out there. I'd much rather have you on my ward any day. But we haven't got a choice in this. Word came down from Howard himself." (That would be Dr. Hammond, the corporation president.) He sighed again, "It's about the money. I don't know if you've heard the scuttlebutt around here, but the hospital's kind of strapped for cash right now. There's been a bit too much buying of MRI machines and other expensive toys, and not enough income to compensate. This donation comes as a godsend."

"But. . ." Tsukushi protested, her face still screwed up in confusion. "What does that have to do with me?"

"Well, you see." Dr Killjoi grimaced again, as if it pained him to admit the rest. "The patron who's making the donation, specifically stipulated the affiliation of this 'clinic' with city hospital, and furthermore your presence was required. . . "

"Isn't that illegal?" Tsukushi interrupted hotly.

"Umm. . . yes well. . ." He coughed apologetically, "So is blackmail and bribery, but even in this country, those two practices are alive and well."

"You mean to tell me that my career-- my life-- is getting fucked over because of a bribe?! What the hell?!" Damn politeness, this conversation was too far gone in the land of the surreal to bother with such niceties.

"Now, now. . . You didn't hear it from me." He had a career to protect as well. A hasty subject change was perhaps in order, "Besides, why shouldn't it be you? Seems to me like the, ahem, patients, at this." Cough, "clinic. Are, or were once, already in your care."

Oh shit.

That sinking feeling wasn't just her stomach churning, that was the feel of her world crashing down around her.

"Mr. Doumyouji." She breathed; the calm before the storm. Not even waiting for the nod she knew was coming, "He can't do this. I'll fight it. I can refuse to treat. . . ."

"You do any such thing, " Dr Killjoi rasped unhappily, "And you'll never be allowed to practice in this country again. . . He has that kind of money. That kind of connections. Haven't you ever heard of Kaede Doumyouji? You just don't mess with that kind of family. If he want's you as his personal shrink, I'm afraid we simply don't have the choice. All you have to do is get through this. Do what you're trained to do. And the sooner he resolves whatever personal crisis inspired this debacle, the sooner we can put you back to work here. In the meantime, I'm relieving you of all your duties here for the rest of the day. You start at your new position tomorrow. Get your cases in order here, and I'll see that they're re-assigned. Do you need the address for the. . Ah. . the F4 clinic?"

"No." Tsukushi bit out between gritted teeth. "I suspect I know exactly where it is." She stood and turned to leave, already trying to think of ways to fight this latest injustice. The clearing of Dr. Killjoi's throat caught her in the doorway; she turned to look at his grim and care-worn expression.

"I'm sorry, Tsukushi. . .If there was any thing I could do, you know I would."

Tsukushi knew no such thing, "It's ok," She mustered a wan smile, "I'll handle it on my own." Hadn't she always? Why should things be any different now. One way or the other, she would get through this. After all, she was a weed. A bad case of MRSA, if you will. She wasn't going to let Mr. Doumyouji, or anyone else for that matter, take her down. Psychiatry was her career, her life. She had nothing else to hold onto. Nothing else worth holding on to. She wasn't going to let his whim take that away from her. She just couldn't.

Even if he did seem to hold all the cards.

TBC

- - - Whee another chapter done. I have to get up fuck-early tomorrow, otherwise I'd spend the time in reviewer responses. But instead, I'm going to sleep. In the meantime, Thanks to; RaRa, gooberific, stargal, sheen, kobayashi eiko, dark rain, polabear, luna, just a reader, and xxswtdreamerxx1 for continuing not only to read my ever-lengthening epic, but for spending the time to grace me with your reviews as well! (I hope I didn't miss anyone in that list, if I did, I'm very sorry!) thanks guys, you inspire me to keep writing when I didn't think I had any words left in me. . . - - -


	31. ch 30 in which tsukushi hates

"Doc? What are you doing here?"

Tsukushi brushed by the wide-eyed Akira without a word. Unerringly, she made her way to the living room, where Tsukasa sat, lounging across the couch, furiously typing away at his laptop. Hands fisted inside her impeccably clean White Coat, she planted herself firmly in front of Tsukasa, and glared until he deigned to look up.

"Mr. Doumyouji." Tsukushi began, her voice almost shaking with the cold fury she'd pent up inside since yesterday, "I hate you. I despise the way you treat people, using your money to impose your will upon others. I loathe you for your utter hypocrisy. Let me quote you for a moment," And here Tsukushi paused, allowing her brain, honed by years of rote memorization in medical school to dredge up a scene between Tsukasa and herself, only a few short months ago, "'I can't believe you call yourself a professional, when all you seem to care about is yourself and your petty power games. You disgust me.' I believe those were your very words. Well, I just want to inform you, that your little power games now, will be the direct cause of incalculable harm. I have. Or rather had, A large number of seriously ill patients who trusted me and relied upon me for their care and treatment, Not to mention the large number of emergency patients that passed through my hands. Do you know what a setback it is for these people to switch physicians in the middle of their treatment? The trust that is broken? The rapport that is lost? Those people trusted me! And you, with your money and your sleaze, you took that away, just to fulfill your own little selfish needs. You could've hired anyone-- the city has plenty of private practice psychiatrists who'd be delighted to take your case for an infinitesimal fraction of the price you paid to buy off the hospital. But No. You just couldn't take no for an answer, could you?" She sneered with all the rage and despair she felt at having her life manipulated so, "I won't be your slave. You may be able to buy my superiors, but you'll never be able to buy me. I hate you with every fibre of my being."

Tsukushi paused to take a calming breath, her rage-blinded eyes incapable of noting what reaction, if any, Tsukasa was evincing. Not that she gave a flying fuck what he thought anyway.

"That being said, I _Am_ a professional. The chief of psychiatry has assigned me your case, and that of Mr. Hanazawa. Here, I have drawn up a schedule and a syllabus for our time together. Goals, optimum outcomes, allowable outcomes. Et cetera. I presume you are not too busy at this moment to plan out our sessions for the next week. As you no doubt know, I will be here at Eight AM through Ten PM, Monday through Friday, and nine to noon on weekends. Furthermore, I will be on first call Tuesday and Thursday, Saturday and Sunday. Dr. Chu has kindly agreed to take first call Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Feel free to call her in case of emergency. If she does not feel qualified to handle it, she will, in turn, call me. Is this clear? Good. Then let's get to it."

"Wow." Akira and Soujiro, listening at the door, could only shake their heads in amazement. Tsukasa had obviously failed to inform them of some critically important activities going on around here.

"I didn't know someone could be that angry and still be coherent."

"Oh sure," Akira pshawed, "Tsukasa gets like that too. You've seen it."

"But he just gets violent with it."

"Oh, I'm sure she'd love to throttle him. Did you see the look in her eye when she stormed in?"

"Hells no, and I'm glad I didn't." Soujiro laughed, "But man, with a temper like that, are you sure she's not a wildcat in bed? I mean really, don't you think she'd be into a little SM, a little bondage? Hmm...?"

"No." Akira grimaced, suddenly serious. "This. . .This is not a good situation." As if the massive bruises Tsukasa had beaten into him yesterday hadn't been proof enough of that. "Shit. What the fuck was I thinking?"

"And you always say I'm the one with the bad ideas, the raging libido." Soujiro muttered, "Better you than me, man. Better you than me." Thinking how Akira'd tried to get him to seduce the doctor, never realizing that their idiot of a ringleader might just decide he wanted the emotionally volatile doctor around constantly. As if they needed such a focus for disaster. As if she needed such provocation.

"Not going to be a good week." Akira grimaced, resigning himself to staying out of sight of both Tsukasa and Tsukushi, until both had calmed down some. After all, he valued the integrity of his skin, even more than he valued the knowledge to be gained by further probing of the doctor.

"No." Soujiro sighed, "I do hope Tsukasa knows what he's doing."

"Shit, man. You were the one who called her here the other night."

"I didn't know it was going to lead to this! How could I have?"

"We're so fucked." Akira shook his head wearily.

"Oh come on. You're the only one who's fucked her. I bet Tsukasa is just jealous. Why else go through all this trouble to bring her here?"

"Hah. Not bloody likely. Think the world's more likely to end before Tsukasa remembers he's got a dick."

"Or how to use it."

"I don't think Dr. Dearest could tell the difference."

"Ooh. That's harsh."

"No, just sad." Akira frowned. He really did feel sorry for her. And not just for the obvious deficiencies in her sex life. The doctor was a seriously unhappy person, and Tsukasa's little power play could not help matters any. But there were some things he just couldn't change, much as his paternal instinct would like him to.

"Come on, man." Soujiro sensed the sudden change in mood, "Forget about those fools. They'll sort it out eventually, I'm sure. Let's go practice for a while. It'll be good for you."

"Yeah. . .I suppose." Akira agreed absently, and followed his friend down the stairs to their practice room.

Elsewhere in the house, Tsukushi sat primly at Rui's desk, while her patient stretched out in bed, as usual. Tsukasa had been too immobilized with disbelieving fury at the first part of her little speech, and too stunned by her sudden shift to terse professionalism to do much but gape as she brushed past him to visit with Rui. She had to start somewhere, right? And she'd much rather start out with her favorite headcase, as opposed to her second least favorite man on the planet. Or either of the other two men in the house, for that matter.

"Bravo." Rui deadpanned as Tsukushi settled herself into his room. "A fine performance."

"You heard?" Tsukushi actually blushed. She was a little ashamed of her outburst downstairs, but oh man had it felt good.

"How could I not? That voice of yours. . ."

"Eh, well. . ." She hadn't realized that she had been quite so loud. "OK, then. You do know why I'm here, right?" Tsukushi would much prefer to not have to explain things to him.

"Yeah." Rui stared at the ceiling, pretending to be fascinated by the webwork of cracks running through the old plaster.

"So? Would you care to begin?"

"Not really." Nothing but cool nonchalance here, refusing to look at the impatiently seething woman.

"Well, I'm afraid we don't have the choice, in that. Now do we?"

Rui closed his eyes. There was always a choice. He chose not to cooperate.

"Look," Tsukushi tried another tack, "We've had these sessions before. Only difference, is the setting. I'd like to believe we made progress before. So now I'm here to finish the job.

"Only difference, my ass." Rui startled her with his sudden motion, opening his eyes and rolling abruptly to face Tsukushi, "We're both prisoners here now. How do you like it? You and all the other shrinks, playing with my life, shuffling me from cell to cell, robbing me of My options, trying to take away My memories, twisting My priorities. Brainwashing, Controlling, Confining. I'm so glad you've come to play with me. Now you can learn what it's like." Just as quickly, he turned away again, becoming still as stone again, as if his abrupt outburst had leached him of all his intensity.

"You never were a prisoner here." Tsukushi argued, "You could leave at any time. All you had to do was walk right out that door. Put yourself right back on the street. You and I both know you could lose yourself where we'd never be able to find you."

"There are different kinds of prisons." Rui countered, unable, as ever, to prevent himself from being drawn into her argument. He could stare at the ceiling all he wanted, as if he were in a trance, but he couldn't stop himself from listening to her words.

"Such as the ones you build for yourself." Tsukushi shot back, "Isn't it time you admitted the truth? You choose to remain here. You choose to stay alive. You don't really want to die, any more than I do."

"No!" Rui's shout of denial almost shook the room, all the more shocking for the volume and the fury packed into that one word, the way his grim mask twisted into a bitter snarl. But it didn't help. He wanted to deny her words, Wanted to prove that they were false. But how could he, when they only echoed his own fears? Damn her for being so observant. Damn her for speaking the truth. How could he face Shizuka in death now, feeling so ashamed of his betrayal? How could he live without her? It shouldn't be possible. . . But it was. And oh, how he hated himself for it; how he hated her for making him see.

Tsukushi bowed her head, allowing Rui some privacy for his grief. Waiting for the storm to pass.

When at last Rui had recollected himself, he turned again to peer at the doctor. There she sat, backlit in gold by the morning sunshine, head down. Lost in her own private world. That he could understand. He turned back to his, and for a while the room was still and quiet, shrouded in a kind of wistful melancholy.

"Let's talk about something else." Unexpectedly, Rui found that he was the first to break the silence.

"What would you like to talk about?" Tsukushi was genuinely curious. Usually Rui required much prompting to speak.

"You."

"Huh?" Tsukushi turned her startled gaze, trying to catch his eye, but Rui would have none of it, deliberately keeping his own focus on a point 3 inches behind the ceiling.

"Yes." Rui continued in an almost dreamy tone, his quiet voice reflecting none of the emotions that were truly passing through his brain. "Why Akira?"

"Eh?" Tsukushi stammered. This wasn't supposed to be about her personal life. She was the therapist here, after all.

"Why did you fuck Akira?" Rui continued sweetly; he could almost hear her squirming uncomfortably by his side. Funny how easy it was to get under her skin. "Why not Soujiro? I heard he'd offered previously. Or hell," he paused, his lips twitching up in a sardonic smile, humor that never reached his eyes, "I told you my rates when I was working on the street. You know you wanted to. 50$, a bargain at that. And none of the emotional crap that comes after. Isn't that what you wanted?" Oh, he knew how to twist the knife in deep. If she could hurt him, so could he do to her. Her open face had never been able to hide a thing. A little more, he could probably drive her to tears if he wanted. Did he really want to? Rui opened his mouth to speak, before that thought could reach its conclusion.

Fortunately, whatever he was about to say was interrupted by a voice at the door.

"I don't think the good doctor's recreational activities are any of your business, do you?"

"Why not?" Rui countered, "She pries into all of mine."

"S'what we pay her for." Soujiro leaned nonchalantly on the doorframe, "Hate to break up such a cozy conversation, but Tsukasa wants to see the doc. You and Akira can decide later who's going to help relieve her tension, but if I were her," and here he paused to leer at Tsukushi, "I know what I'd do. After all, I'm the only one here who doesn't charge, " A significant and disapproving glare at Rui, "or sit around to Talk afterwards! Who needs the hassle. Plus, I am the most attractive man here."

"Keep it in your pants." Tsukushi grated out through clenched teeth, her scarlet cheeks betraying her mortification. Damnit. Maybe she could claim sexual harassment as an out. The hospital wouldn't want to face that kind of lawsuit. They'd have to end this stupidity then, right? Anything would be better than this. Even dealing with Mr. Doumyouji. At least he, of all the men here, had never made a pass at her, even one as insincere as Soujiro's or Rui's.

She hardly even noticed as she stalked out of the room, the way Soujiro remained behind, his voice dropping lower, to reprimand Rui more seriously. If she had, she might have been surprised at what he had to say. . .

TBC

- - - Oof. Another slow, and somewhat mediocre chapter, I know. I think it'll get somewhere soon, though. I hope. Hell, at least I updated again. gotta count for something right. Would almost rather be writing than do my actual plans for the weekend, at that. Must be the drugs finally taking effect. (and yeah, the last chapter was sort of supposed to be funny in parts. Glad some of you actually found it to be so.) - - -


	32. ch 31 in which people argue

"You're jealous." Soujiro swung inside Rui's room, shutting the door behind him.

"Of what?" Rui quickly shrugged his mask of nonchalance back into place.

"Don't play the fool." Soujiro snapped, "And don't kid yourself either. Dr. Makino might have a thing for you. That much is almost painfully obvious. But, she's never going to sleep with you, even if she wanted to. So cut the shit. You can't have it both ways. You can't pity yourself forever for losing. . .for losing Shizuka, . . ." he paused to gulp back his own sorrow, ". . .and pity yourself for not having the doctor, at the same time."

"What would you know about it?" somehow, even a monotone could sound like a sneer, "You had Sara and all your little groupies too."

"That's not the same." Soujiro'd come just in time to catch the tail end of Rui and Tsukushi's little conversation. Just in time to let the pieces fall into place, "You can't have missed just how fucked up your precious little doctor is. The only thing she's got going for her is her career. Or at least that's what Akira thinks, and I'd have to agree. The woman's got no life, her only friend is her roommate, she's terrified of men, she's scared to death of losing control. I mean, shit. This stuff just ain't subtle!"

"So?" Rui pretended disinterest. Hoping to end Soujiro's lecture. After all, it was pretty embarrassing to be lectured at on love by a guy who couldn't sleep through the night without some kind of warm body to share his bed.

"So. . ." Soujiro was riled up, and rapidly losing patience, "So. . . Think about it. She defines who she is by her career. What little self-worth that chick's got left depends on her doing her job Right." He paused for emphasis, knowing that the conclusion was already brutally obvious, "Doctors don't sleep with their patients. Not the good ones. She will never ever fuck you. No matter how much you want her to."

"She wants to." Rui didn't care if he sounded like an obstinate child. Playing devil's advocate just because he could, because it would just piss Soujiro off more.

"No she doesn't." In tones of heavy finality. "That's not what she wants from you."

"I know." Rui sighed, suddenly tired of the argument, "But Akira can't have her either."

"Shit man, he doesn't want her. It was just a fling, you know. A fling." All the while thinking, I can't believe he's really jealous. About a stick of a girl, who couldn't ever hold a candle to Shizuka.

Silence. Rui was staring at the ceiling again.

"You. . . you don't really want her do you?" Soujiro tried again, wondering if it would be better or worse, for Rui to have this new fixation.

"You're the master of the one night stand. Not I. What do you think?" Hardly an answer.

"I think." Soujiro said heavily, after a long pause, "That we are looking for the same thing."

"Really? And what might that be? I hardly think you're looking for the same oblivion as I. But if you are, I know some good dealers. . ."

"No." Soujiro scowled and sat down on the desk, as if by moving closer to Rui, physically, he could mend some of the broken bonds between them, "I used to think, you know, that it was oblivion. Like you. Only I tried to forget through sex, not drugs. Not death. But recently, I realized, that what it's really all about, is forgiveness. I've been running from it for years, and so have you. They can't forgive us now. Sara and Shizuka are dead, and nothing can change that. So it's up to us, to forgive ourselves. You for living, me for faithlessness."

"What," Rui broke in, "You had some kind of epiphany or something? Been investing in your own pharmacopoeia, perhaps? Joined a cult, for inner peace and all that nonsense? Become born again? And now you've joined the lotus eaters, bland, boring, and content?"

"No." Soujiro sighed, "Nothing like that. I just came to my senses. Here, I'll tell you a story . ." It had happened Friday night (or more precisely, in the wee hours of Saturday morning.) Such a busy and eventful night-- his own personal jumpstart kicking in sometime between the time he'd awoken alone in his hotel room, and the time he'd arrived home in the nick of time to stop Rui. There he'd been. Naked, Alone, in an anonymous bed, the sheets still reeking of sex. The absence of the lover almost palpable. The thing he hated the most-- to be left alone. It didn't matter whom. It didn't matter when. Togetherness with anything warm, with anything human, reaching the ultimate union in sex, the pure exaltation of physicality over all else. And in that moment, as he'd reached across the bed in a futile attempt to feel the dissipating warmth from Yuki's vanished presence, he'd realized the truth behind his philandering ways. The reason that he so neurotically seduced woman after woman, only to leave them after one night. Not because of the blessed oblivion that came in the moment of orgasm, but because it prevented the guilt that washed over him, each time he woke alone. Each time he woke, remembering, how Sara must've felt, each time she woke without him, knowing that he was off fooling around again. The loneliness that she must've endured because of his callous ways. And so, he avoided being alone, the only way he knew how, so he wouldn't have to face the truth. And he slept with each woman, no more than once, so he wouldn't feel unfaithful to his love for Sara by replacing her in his heart.

But it wasn't enough. And this time he realized it. The neverending cycle through woman after woman, it only delayed the inevitable. Sooner or later, he would have to face himself in the mirror. His many lovers couldn't forgive him, for they didn't know that was what he needed. And anyway, they weren't Sara. In the end, it was up to him to forgive himself. Up to him to stop running away. He hadn't managed it yet. Didn't know if he ever would. Still, at least, he knew he should try.

"And, I didn't even need a shrink to explain it all to me." Was his conclusion, at last. Feeling inordinately proud of himself.

"Didn't you sleep with her roommate Friday?" Was Rui's sleepy reply.

"Well, yeah. . . so?"

"Wasn't this the chick who' s been crushing on you since you met?"

"Yeah?"

"So don't you think that you're maybe just feeling guilty, because you know Tsukushi's probably pissed at you for trysting with her friend. And you're just taking it out on me, now?"

"Huh, what?" Now Soujiro was confused, "What does that have to do with anything? . . . No! . . . "

Rui closed his eyes, a smile only he could see forming in his mind.

"Oh." Soujiro finally figured out that Rui was playing with him, "You asshole. Don't mess with my head like that!"

He'd meant what he'd said. They were, all of them, in need of forgiveness. Now, if only they knew how to give it to themselves. . .

"Mr. Doumyouji." Tsukushi knocked at his door, her tone cold and unfriendly. Sure, she knew it was her job to mend this man's broken psyche. But how could she, when right now, she hated him so goddamned much?

"Come in." Tsukasa's voice was equally chilly. His frustration almost palpable in the air between them.

"Do you really think that this. . . situation. . . is a good idea?" It was an effort of will to keep her voice civil, to keep from wanting to punch in the (imagined and imaginary) self-satisfied look on his face.

"What situation?" Hard to believe they were patient and doctor with the frost that hung between them.

"Don't play dumb! This sham 'clinic;' this house of fools! Do you really think that I'm the cure to all your ills? Why couldn't you just hire someone qualified, someone who's passed All of their licensing exams. Someone who wants to dialogue with you." Her face was flushed in anger and she didn't even notice.

"Why. . ." Tsukasa stared back at her. Wasn't the Why obvious? That she was the only one who could do the job? The only one who'd stand up to him enough to curb his destructive impulses. The only outsider who could force Rui from his shell. Why else would he have gone through all the trouble of getting her here? Anyone else would be cowed by their violence, fooled by Rui's facades, made craven by their wealth. You couldn't trust that. But they could trust in her. Not that he could ever actually articulate any of this to the woman before him. Frustrated, he choked out the first thing that came to mind. "You stupid woman! You don't understand a thing!"

"Oh really?" Tsukushi shot back, her hackles up and her temper flaring, "Then why the fuck am I here? Why'd you fuck with my life? Just for the fun of it? Did Junpei ask you to? Is that why you forced me into this tawdry imitation of a hospice, subjected me to an almost endless stream of sexual harassment from your cohabitants?"

"The Fuck? Why the hell are you always bringing Him up? This isn't about him. Why can't you focus on what's important here?"

"Oh, and just what do you consider to be so Important?"

"And you call yourself a psychologist. . ."

"Psychiatrist!"

". . . WhatTheFuckEver. Don't you get it? You're here because You're the only one Rui listens to, Damn You. You think I like that? I'd prefer anyone, anyone else at all! Not some bitch who can't listen to reason. I certainly wouldn't pick someone who's dumb enough to fuck Akira. . . But you're what I'm stuck with. So do your fucking job, already!"

By this point the walls were virtually shaking with the echoes from their heated argument, and doubtless anyone in the house, or even passing in the street outside, could hear at least snippets of their 'dialogue.' But, of course, neither of them noticed, much less cared, at this particular moment.

"My Job? Do you even know what my job is? What it requires? Do you think I can just wave some magic wand and render my patients compliant? Do you think me rambling endlessly on is going to help anyone? Hell No! It doesn't work like that. You're the one who's got to be cooperative. You're the one who's got to admit you've a problem. You're the one who has to be willing to put the effort into getting better! My job is to facilitate. And prescribe medications, as needed."

"I bloody well know I've got problems. That's why you're here!"

"Well then. What do you propose to do about it?"

"How the hell should I know? You're the doctor!"

"Yes. But you're the only one who can see what's going on in that brain of yours. I'm not psychic."

"Bloody well should be." Muttered more to himself than to her.

"What?"

"I said. You Should be psychic. Save us a whole lot of time."

"We've got nothing But time, Mr. Doumyouji. Or don't you remember? You've got my services at your exclusive disposal." In a voice dripping ice. "So why don't we put some of it to good use? Tell me, under what circumstances do you feel more impelled to drink? . . . "

And thus, finally, they got down to the real business at hand. A long and wearying session that. It only ended when Tsukushi's growling stomach reminded her that she'd missed lunch, and her sore throat couldn't take any more shouting. She felt she'd yelled more in these past few hours than she had in years of medicine. Small wonder that; psychiatrists aren't usually supposed to yell at their patients, especially about such off-topic concerns as that patient's bad manners, overbearing ego, annoying way of sitting with arms crossed, that made him look like a pompous ass, or lack of consideration for the needs of others (a point that came to light when Tsukasa flamed at Tsukushi for getting up to take a bathroom break before her bladder burst. He of course had felt no such bodily needs during their session.).

Nevertheless, one would probably have to say that the session was at least a moderate success, despite the cursing and shouting that heralded its conclusion. Tsukushi stormed off, as best she could while attempting to retain some shreds of professional dignity, while Tsukasa slammed his door, and turned to his computer. Strangely enough, the second that the door had closed, a slow smile crept its way across his face.

"Ahh. . ." Tsukasa murmured, meshing his fingers behind his head and leaning back in his chair, "That felt good." Good to be able to rant and yell without worrying about bruising the egos of his friends, or of damaging their ability to work together as a team. Good to take his frustrations out on someone without resorting to violence, or worrying about inciting others to violence. After all, it Was Dr. Makino's job to deal with his shit.

And it was a good thing that she seemed so capable of standing up to him, that he could respect her enough from that, to actually tell her some of the things that were bothering him.

And even as Tsukasa skimmed his emails, reading up on his lawyer's efforts to come to terms with the record company's suit against him, he found his fingers reaching not for the old familiar bottle of whiskey that graced his desk, but, for this moment at least, for a simple glass of water instead. . .

TBC

- - - Whee. Another week, another chapter.

Oh hell, I supposed I'd better do some reviewer responses here, huh? Guess the last time I did was ch 29. So I've got a lot of catching up to do. And to everyone, I am trying to update (this story at least) more regularly, although, I'm afraid it might become difficult again, as my current roommate despises fanfic, and, being one of my best friends, would undoubtedly think it a mercy killing to shoot me if he ever caught me writing this stuff, (and it's hard to finish a chapter when I have to close this window everytime he wanders into my room. Damnit.) Anyway, back to the point.

XxSwtDreamerxX1. Thanks, as ever for your continued readership!

Just a reader: I'm so glad that the emotions of the story hit you like that! Means I'm doing something right. (and, that "everpresent sense of 'what's going to happen next'" you speak of, is undoubtedly due to the fact that I don't always know what's going t happen until the chapters are actually written.). I'm sorry this chapter does answer the question of how Akira and tsukasa are dealing with each other now. . but next time, I think, it just may be. Let's keep our fingers crossed for that.

Luna: so happy to find that you agree with my plot priorities! Character not action! Yay! Ah, such a compliment to say it's in true hyd style. me so happy!

Polabear: (ch 29) thanks! Glad you think so to! (ch 30) Tsukasa vs Akira next time. whenever next time is!

Dark rain: I hope the time between my current updates isn't stretching your patience so much as usual. Thanks for reading. Hmm.. fanfiction vs science lectures. . . if I were you, I'd punt the lectures entirely. Faster and less soporific to read material in book, and save the rest of the time to read ff updates. Yeah! (I'm a terrible influence).

Kobayashi Eiko: no offense taken (at least not now that I'm in a better mood,) happy to see that you're still reading, despite my rant :)

Sheen: You flatter me too much! But your extremely insightful reviews always make me so happy! Thank you thank you thank you for continuing to read and telling me your thoughts! :) I think your reviews mean so much to me, since they're coming from a writer I respect greatly, myself.

Stargal: look, more updates! Glad to see that you're still reading!

Gooberific: I like your take on my slow updates. It's nice to have one's creative efforts thought of as a tasty treat to savor. . . yummy! I'm glad you thought ch 30 was amusing. There needs to be a break from the angst every once in a while, yes? And here you go at last, tsukushi vs tsukasa. they sure do love to fight!

RaRa: please don't kick my ass! I'm trying to write faster, really I am! Don't you like cliffhangers? How else can I keep your interest, w/out them? Ah well, this chappie has none, I think.

Miz: glad you found it funny. I think ch 30 was supposed to have humor, but I can't really remember any more! I'm so senile.

Mental-image: thanks for your kind comments and faithful readership!

Reader: "will there be romance?" hmm. . . do you count Akira and Tsukushi hooking up as romance? If so, then, ya, I guess there was. Otherwise. . I dunno. It doesn't seem to be happening right now. But who can tell. I very much doubt however, that a genuine 'romance' will occur between AT.

Silent Reader: well, you did review, so you're not that naughty! :) and certainly less bad than I when it comes to reviewing things I've read!

Lian: Glad to see you're still reading :)

Far waters: yay! An ew reader ( I think) always makes my day to find new readers popping up out of the woodwork.!! Especially when their reviews make me feel so warm and fuzzy inside. Thank you! As for your comment about my lack of italics, yeah, I never liked italicizing things (though I do occasionally try to remember to do it), and the capitalization to Emphasize words is actually a bad habit I picked up years ago using an obsolete and obscure version of instant messaging technology through telnet (back in the badold days when I could telnet from a dos prompt!). It was a pain in the ass to do boldface, which looked hideous anyway, and I never did figure out italics. So we used, you know __blah for underlining type emphasis, but blah then as now indicates both emphasis or action. So I (and maybe some of my friends as well, I can't remember now) just used capitalizations instead. And that, is far more than you Ever wanted to know, I'm sure, on the origin of my strange formatting preferences:)

Just a teen: glad you're still enjoying the read! Thanks!

Frozenyogurt: thanks! And here's a nice fresh serving of more for your reading pleasure!

Rokusan: thank you so much for your kind comments, and I hope by the next time you're able to check up on the progress of his fic, I can have a few more chappies for you to read.

PeachINVU: thanks! Always glad to see a new reader checking out my work! :)

Moonbeams-stardust. I tried to update as asap as I could! Hope it was soon enough! And thanks, I'm so glad you're enjoying the story!! :) can't tell you if there's gonna be tt romancet hough. Wouldn't want to give away any secrets afterall!

Oof, I think that's everyone. Hope I didn't miss anybody, and if I did, then my most sincere apologies! Until next time. . . -cm- - -


	33. ch 32 in which it is lunchtime

"Oh god. Will it never end?" Another day, another week. Tsukushi had been coming to the house everyday for the past two weeks. Any more of this and she just might go insane.

March had turned to April, grass green again, crocuses and snowdrops blooming in flowerbeds everywhere. You'd think the heralding of longer, warmer days would be enough to inspire optimism and enthusiasm for each new day.

Tsukushi however, was merely tired. And her head hurt. And it was only barely noon. On a Monday. Another morning gone, another shouting match with Tsukasa. And he called this therapy? At this rate, she was the one who was going to need a therapist. (Though, some might say she already did.) Today, now, however, she'd settle for some ibuprofen and some peace and quiet in which to eat her lunch.

With a soft groan, Tsukushi plopped down on one of the hard chairs in the F4's kitchen. One second, that's all she'd take to rest before she grabbed her lunch and fled the house. One second in which to rub her aching temples until her vision blurred. One second to close her eyes and forget how much she hated her life right now.

"I feel like my life is a bad outtake from "Some Kind of Monster."" She grumbled to the air, not noticing that Akira'd entered the kitchen behind her.

"Oh really, We're not that bad -- Are we?" he teased, pretending not to notice her flinch at the sound of his voice. Tsukushi had been avoiding him for the past two weeks, and he was tired of it. And besides, he wanted to talk to her about something.

"What do you think?" She shrugged uncommunicatively.

"I guess it all depends on your point of view." He gave a self-deprecating smile, and quickly changed the subject. "Hey, have you had lunch yet? I was about to make myself a sandwich -- you want one?"

"No. Thanks." In tones of finality, emphasized, none too subtly, by Tsukushi standing up to leave the room.

"Oh hey, wait up!" Ignoring the deliberate slight as she brushed by him to retrieve her lunch and leave the kitchen, Akira hurried after the young doctor. Tsukushi put up with his tenacity, exactly as long as it took her to cross the living room, open the house door, and exit out onto the rickety porch. Here, she turned and spun, her stony face suddenly transformed by pure fury.

"What do you fucking want? Isn't it enough that I'm here all day, everyday? Now you want to take away the only fifteen minutes of peace I get in my day? Leave me the hell alone. You got problems? You want to talk to me? Fucking wait until I'm done with my lunch!"

"But. . ." Akira paused, sighed, shrugged as if in defeat. "Fine. Have it your way. All I wanted was to apologize for Tsukasa. I know he's a real pain in the ass, but really. . . you're making a world of difference. I just thought you should know. But fine. If you don't want to hear it. . . Whatever." That was all, as he turned and stumped back into the house.

"Damnit." The story of her life. Tsukushi sighed. Sometimes she thought she couldn't get anything right. Everything more difficult than it really had to be. She knew she should go back and apologize for her outburst. But. . . It wasn't in her nature. If she was overly defensive, well . . hadn't experience shown she'd good reason to be?

Back rigid, eyes fixed firmly on the pavement in front of her. Tsukushi refused to turn around and take back her harsh words. She didn't care if she'd offended him. She had no reason to like him. No good reason to want anything to do with Akira or with any of the other members of the F4. Nope. She was just going to take a walk down the street to the tiny corner park, sit her ass down on some gnarled tree roots (the dilapidated park benches had long since lost their structural integrity to dry rot and rust), and eat her soggy sandwich.

Well, so. She got the part about going to the park and sitting down all right. But when it came to eating her lunch, she couldn't do it. Staring down at the unwrapped sandwich in her hands, Tsukushi realized that she had lost her appetite completely. She'd raise it up to take a bite, stare at it a little, and lower it back to her lap, fighting off queasiness, willing herself to eat. But no, that just wasn't going to happen. She was just too upset, too unhappy. She really wanted to go kick something into a million pieces or scream her frustration and discontent at the world. That sort of behavior would never do for a 'respected member of the medical profession,' however, so she stifled her urge to scream, and settled for letting a few angry tears slip down her cheek instead.

------

Junpei stalked down the street, hands thrust angrily in his pockets. Weeks, and what had his lawyers accomplished? Damned little! Still out in the cold, still with no band, no profits, no record deal of his own.

No acceptance.

Not by anyone.

That was what really hurt the most. He might claim that he was evicted from the F4 over artistic disagreements, might claim that they hated him because they were jealous of his ability, his contacts and friends in high places, but he knew better. Damnit. Junpei furiously kicked at the small stones in his path. And then there was Tsukushi! Fucking hell. Sure, ok, he hadn't thought of her in years until the F4 dragged her into their own little drama, but still. . . He'd had good reasons to put her out of his mind, to forget her tears, her look of utter betrayal, the way her soft eyes had hardened into hatred and distrust. He didn't want to remember that it all had been his fault. Didn't want to remember that he had actually loved her, against his own will.

But then, When he'd seen her again, those few months ago. He'd felt an uncontrollable surge of jealousy. He'd wanted to believe that he'd moved on, that their disastrous college relationship hadn't left its marks on him. That was a lie. You wouldn't think it, would you, that a scrawny neurotic chick like Tsukushi Makino could leave such an impression on his soul? That's because you'd never seen her before. Young and innocent and full of life and spirit. Surrounded by friends; laughing and happy. Before he took them all away; jealous for her affection, before he took away her laughter.

He could admit it now. He'd first wanted her to fulfill a dare. That didn't change the fact that he'd come to love her. That he loved her still.

But she'd rejected him. Just like everyone else.

He couldn't help who he was, anymore than anyone else could. So why did no one want him? (Groupies, attracted by fame and fortune, and a hot bod, do not count.) Tsukasa was at least as violent as Junpei, if not more so, but he still had friends, had people who cared for him and trusted him. Rui, a worthless self-absorbed heroin junky, had people falling all over themselves to pamper him, give him all the chances he didn't deserve. No one had given Junpei such a chance. He'd had to work hard to get where he was. He'd had to use all the dirty tricks in the book. Money he had, but not respect, not acceptance, and not love. There was no one he could call his own.

Was it really his fault that he didn't know how to express himself? That his plea for attention and love came out twisted and hurtful? He'd had a hard childhood, neglectful and abusive. Parents running hot and cold. It was all he knew how to be. Tsukushi should have been smart enough to see through his crude words, should have been clever enough to understand. After all, she was the shrink, wasn't she? And Tsukushi, the Tsukushi he'd known in college, The Tsukushi he remembered (before he'd broken her) had been compassionate enough to understand. She never would have pushed him away that night in the club; never would have been such a bitch as to kick him in the balls like that.

He couldn't blame himself, so he blamed the F4. For turning her against him. For keeping her from him -- the one purest thing he'd ever known -- the only one who'd ever made him calm.

Junpei had gone by the hospital again, the other day, after he'd recovered from the pain and humiliation of being floored in the club that night. He'd intended to talk to Tsukushi, to reason with her, to make her see, that he was the only one for her, that she needed to come back to him. (Conveniently, he'd forgotten just why that could never be). So there he was, wandering the wards, interrogating every nurse he saw, until finally one snapped at him,

"She's not here! Lucky Bitch! Thought she was too good for public health care. Got herself a sweet deal-- private therapist to the hottest guys on the planet! And still a resident. What the hell is the world coming to? We should all be so lucky."

At these words, Junpei's face clouded. The F4, of course, who else could it be? They just kept taking more and more. While he was left with nothing.

Which, of course, led him to the present moment. He'd called his lawyers this morning, asked about the court date for the record company's suit against the F4, tried to find out what they were doing on his behalf. Was infuriated to learn how poorly things were progressing. It was straightforward, wasn't it? Breach of contract and yeah. Apparently, not so much when the enemy -- as he'd come t think of Tsukasa -- had unexpected reserves of weaponry at his disposal. The record company's lawyers acted as is if this case was a hot potato, passing it off to the next fool down the line, as if it would burn them, He'd heard some nasty rumors going 'round. Tsukasa was serious about wanting the F4's freedom. Tsukasa was richer than god, and more spiteful.

How was Junpei to know all that? the F3 had never acted rich, never showed evidence of having that kind of money, that kind of power -- Hell, they'd never even acted as if their music was making them any money at all. Perhaps that should have been the first clue, he reflected sourly.

Well, if they could dig up dirt on his lawyers, interfere with his cause, then he could bloody well come and spy on them, now couldn't he? See if he could learn anything useful to put the company's legal challenge back on track. -- And maybe, just maybe, find a way to drive a wedge between Tsukushi and the band, find a way to drive her back to him.

Junpei scowled again. Someday, things would have to go his way again, wouldn't they? Didn't he deserve that just as much as anyone else?

And there. . . Over there, in that park, What was that? Out of the corner of his eye, Junpei glimpsed a familiar figure. One whose back was turned. Hmm. . . perhaps things were starting to look up after all. Cautiously, Junpei maneuvered closer, thankful for the screen of lilacs just putting out leaves that helped conceal him from the scene on which he intended to spy.

TBC

- - - hmm. A junpei moment? Who'd've thought it? I guess that'd be me. Sorry ch is short. I got hangover (still! 19 hrs later shouldn't still suck so much!) Hurt too much to stare at computer. So I post and sleep, hope ch not as random as I suspect. Hope typos not so bad ( I only wrote part while drunk last night.) write reviewer responses when I think in complete sentences again. later. Yeah. Later. Feel the angst.


	34. ch 33 in which lunch is not eaten

Tsukushi looked up at the sound of footsteps. So much for private time.

"Yo." Nonchalantly slouching, hands thrust deep in threadbare pockets. Tsukushi's reply-- a barely audible grunt, as she hastily reached up to wipe away the last traces of her tears. "Mind if I sit?" Tsukushi's face, could have been carved in stone. "Yeah, I guess you really don't like us very much do you?" Soujiro laughed self-deprecatingly, and scratched at the back of his neck in a passable imitation of embarrassment, "Guess I won't sit after all."

"Did you want something?" Sure, she was supposed to be helping these guys, but still. She couldn't help feeling hostile. Even (or perhaps especially) after that run in with Akira mere minutes ago.

"Well, yeah. Actually." Soujiro grinned in what was meant to be a disarming manner. "So, umm. I know this is supposed to be your lunch break, but I wanted to talk to you about Rui, you know, someplace away from the others."

"You know I can't discuss his case. Confidentiality and all." Tsukushi refused to thaw even a little. It is true, however, that part of her chilly manner was due to embarrassment at the thought that she might have been seen to be crying.

"Well, I'm not asking you to." As if they couldn't hear enough of the details just be eavesdropping near the door of Rui's room (shoddy construction of the dilapidated house allowed even murmurs to carry surprisingly far.) "But well, We're concerned."

"We?"

"Akira and I."

"And Mr. Doumyouji?"

"Oh, he thinks you're the best thing to happen all year." Leaving Tsukushi to blink in stunned shock at the casual compliment. Tsukasa said That? Holy hell and damn.

"Ah." Tsukushi forced herself to stop gaping like a beached fish, "Umm. So what was your concern?" Trying to sound calm, collected, and professional. After all, that was what she was, right? A professional.

"Well. You see. I'm worried." Soujiro's face gradually gelled into a grim expression "There are two things really, and I think the solutions are mutually exclusive. Haven't really discussed this with Akira, but he's probably aware of it all anyway. So, number one. You know, when you're here during the day, Rui. . . He seems more alive, more involved. Even though he pretends otherwise. But when you're gone at night, well. . . It's like a light has gone out. " (He didn't dare mention his sneaking suspicion that Dr. Makino-- Tsukushi -- appeared to have a similar effect on Tsukasa (though, of course, Tsukasa and Rui expressed their discontent differently.) "It's kind of scary, you know, those mood swings. The way he just seems to disappear in his own mind. A place where none of us can reach. . . . And then, I wonder, if I go to sleep, If I stop watching for even a second, will he leave us for good? During the day, I see him -- he actually smiles! He practices music! But then. At night, he shuts down. I can't sleep any more, I'm afraid of what he might do."

"Rui. . ." Tsukushi interrupted quietly, "Rui is. . .difficult. . . He's trying, you know. He needs your trust as well as your support in order to heal."

"Trust! Hah" Soujiro's laugh was a short unpleasant bark, "Isn't that asking a lot? Given. everything. Support, Hells yeah, we're the fucking F4, we'll stick together no matter what. . . But trust?"

"Yes." And now Tsukushi was glaring, "That kind of attitude is going to get you nowhere." She felt as if he were laughing at her. "How is he going to learn to trust himself again -- trust in life, if you don't trust in him first?"

Soujiro's mocking laugh was cut off abruptly, when he saw how serious she was being, the haunted look in her eye contrasting sharply with the determinedly crisp and detached tone of her voice. Here was a woman who knew what she was talking about. Firsthand.

"I." He paused, "I really don't know if I can do that. Not that I don't want to, you understand. . .It's just that. . . yeah."

Tsukushi sighed, "I know it's hard. But you have to try."

"Yeah but.. . " And now he had to come to the real point after the slow lead-up, "Wouldn't it just be simpler, and better for all concerned if you just moved into our house? I mean, It makes sense and all. You're the doctor, you're the one Rui responds to. You're the only one who really seems to get through to him. And see, you understand what he needs! We don't. So, It'd just be perfect."

"What?! You want me to what?!" Tsukushi's eyes were bugging out and she was making no effort whatsoever to control the volume of her voice despite the very public place.

"Oh come on! It's not like you don't already almost live with us! A few more hours can't hurt!"

"What?!" How could she explain how insane these guys drove her? How much she hated being around them? How much she treasured her time alone at home in her apartment. Except that, well, None of That was exactly true. At all, really. When she was around the F4, arguing with them, listening to them rant, berating them, listening to the sounds of their practice sessions reverberating through the house, the sounds of their friendship and their deep bonds with each other, she felt more alive than she had in years. It was almost as if she belonged to something. A feeling that she'd forgotten in the depths of her youth. None of that changed the fact that they made her angry as all hell, and frustrated besides. But much of life is like that, and Tsukushi hardly noticed the contradiction.

"Please?" Soujiro made puppy dog eyes and cast about for ways to sweeten the deal, "You'd be saving on rent, and . . Akira does all the cleaning. Hell, you can have my room -- It's got great light -- and I'll share with Akira. You can hardly even hear the sounds of practice in the basement, and it's right across from Rui. . . ."

"God." Tsukushi groaned, shaking her head wearily. "You know I can't do that."

"But why not?" Soujiro persisted, as if he really had no idea.

"You're-- they're -- supposed to be my patients. Not my roommates."

"Not your friends?" Soujiro interrupted.

"Exactly." Tsukushi sighed, wondering why she felt so embarrassed. It wasn't a crime not to be friends with someone. That wasn't part of the job. But somehow, the way Soujiro said it, it sounded like an accusation, like she was letting them down.

"Rui doesn't see it that way." a harsher accusation, but no less true for all that.

"Yeah well. That's another reason I can't possibly spend more time here."

"Afraid Rui's going to take advantage of you?" Soujiro snorted, though, this issue was, of course the second problem he'd come to talk to Dr. Makino about.

"Ack." Tsukushi grimaced, and shivered despite the warm air, not liking that idea at all. This was not a subject she wanted to talk about.

"It's ok, doc." Soujiro tried to adopt a reassuring tone, "We know you're doing your best. I had a little talk with Rui the other day, and he understands your position."

"What do mean -- my position?" Tsukushi had the wary look in her eyes, like a mouse that knows the cat is just playing with it before plunging in for the kill.

"That, you know, you can't hook up with him, 'cause of your job."

"What?!" Tsukushi's shriek of outrage caused Soujiro to slam his hands over his ears.

"Ow. What? Oh come on, doc. Everyone knows you want to. Hell, Why do you think Rui listens to you? It's got nothing to do with your professionalism, that's for sure. . ." One glimpse of Tsukushi's wrathful glare had him waving his hands in surrender and quickly amending his words, "Oh don't worry -- We don't think you will fuck him, really, and hell, I'm, all for whatever keeps Rui with us, no matter how unorthodox. . . It's just that, I can see it is a small problem for you."

"Small problem. Hah." Tsukushi looked away and mumbled to herself, "Just another straw to break this camel's back."

"Besides," Soujiro grinned cheekily, "You could always tell him you decided to date Akira."

"I don't need this right now." Tsukushi groaned before upping her volume drastically to yell at Soujiro, "Look you asshole, why don't you just leave me alone?! I don't want to live at your house, I don't want to fuck Rui, and I certainly don't want to date Mr. Mimasaka -- In fact, I'd be just as happy if I never saw him again! I don't need a man! I don't want you to be my friends! I don't need anyone! So just fuck off and let me eat my lunch in peace!"

"Ok, alright already." Stunned, Soujiro backed off placatingly, "Just think about the moving in thing, ok?" he didn't quite dare to ask again, just what she was going to do about Rui's attachment at this moment.

"I don't need to think about it." Tsukushi sniffed, willing herself to calm down, "The answers is No."

"Well, We'll see." Soujiro averred, unwilling to let the matter die right then. But acknowledging that perhaps now was a good time for a strategic retreat. So with a jaunty wave, he turned and strode back to the house.

Left alone once more, Tsukushi stared absent mindedly down at the still-uneaten sandwich in her lap, and frowned. Why must everything be so complicated? Why was it so hard to know the right thing to do? If her unprofessional relationship with Rui kept him attached to this world, then it was a good thing, right? But, it wasn't healthy, when it led to feelings that couldn't be acknowledged. And what was the use of a method that wasn't applicable to more than one patient? And what about her own happiness, her own frustration in this?

Tsukushi just didn't know. It wasn't the sort of thing they taught you the answers to in school. "In case of conflict of interest, or if you feel you cannot give the patient the care they need, you can refuse the case, and refer it to someone more qualified." Tsukushi quoted an old lecturer of hers. "Bullshit. Dr Corrida never got screwed over like me." A new burst of self-pity, "Nobody Ever got screwed over like me." but her lunch break was almost over, so Tsukushi stood, absentmindedly leaving her untouched sandwich lying on the exposed tree root for the birds and squirrels to eat. A short walk to clear her head. And then she'd take on the afternoon hell-session with Tsukasa. Oh joy.

Walking away, Tsukushi failed to notice the lurker who slid from his place of concealment behind an old oak tree and wandered over to examine the place where she had sat-- as if he could taste Tsukushi's residual aura lingering in the sunbeam.

"Rui, eh?" Junpei murmured to himself, as he regarded the remnants of Tsukushi' lunch. "As if he deserves her. Tsukushi belongs to me!" Now if only he could make Her see that. At least, he thought with a smile, she was rejecting the F4s advances. So perhaps she wasn't a complete sucker for their tricky ways. Maybe she just needed a little more persuasion to come back to him. Only one way to find that out for sure. . .

TBC.

---Negativity is a way of life, compressed, distilled and regurgitated for your reading (dis)pleasure. Now that's philosophy. Shit yeah..---


	35. ch 34 in which junpei acts

One week later, Tsukushi found herself even more at her wit's end-- a state that she thought she'd already attained. Apparently, however, that was not the case. After all, things can always get worse. In this case, what was worse, had little to do with the F4 -- or rather, that is to say-- little to do with the original F4, and everything to do with Junpei. One would've thought that the knee-in-groin experience he'd endured at the club would've warned him off Tsukushi for good. But oh no. not Junpei. He was far too perverse for that.

It all started the day of Tsukushi's conversation with Soujiro in the park. She'd come home to find flowers, of all things, waiting for her. She couldn't even remember the last time someone had sent her flowers, especially not ones as nice as these -- stunningly fragrant freesia, crisp roses, white orchids, oh-so tastefully arranged in a bouquet-- not so large as to overwhelm, not so small as to be insignificant. Their existence was shocking enough without gratuitous displays of grandeur. Yuki, who'd arrived home earlier, was all smiles and eager curiosity, simply dieing to know who Tsukushi's fan was. It was plain that she suspected one of the F4. Tsukushi, herself, didn't quite know what to think, that is, until she opened up the attached card and read the note.

"This has got to be a joke." Numbly, she handed the card to Yuki to read.

"A date? You're being asked out on a date?" Yuki squealed excitedly, not knowing the true story between Tsukushi and Junpei, "By. . . Oh my god, Junpei Oribe! He's so hot, you're so lucky, Tsukushi--- all day with the rest of the F4, and now Junpei is asking you out!?

"Not luck. More like a nightmare." Tsukushi muttered under her breath. The last thing she needed right now was Junpei harassing her again. "Shit. Can I get a restraining order without having to bring . . . that. . .up?"

"Tsukushi?" Yuki peered at her friend in some concern. "What are you talking about? This is the chance of a lifetime!"

"Fine then, you go!" Tsukushi snapped thoughtlessly. An instant later, she recoiled in white faced horror at what she'd said, "No, no! I'm sorry, I wouldn't wish that on anyone. Much less my best friend."

Yuki blinked in consternation at Tsukushi's ferocity, "Tsukushi. . .What's wrong? Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. I'm fine. Really." Tsukushi denied, "Just a little unwelcome bit of history. Nothing you need to worry about. Just forget it. "With that, she took a deep breath, tore up the card, and stalked off to her room.

"Tsukushi!" Yuki called after her back, "What about the flowers?"

"You keep them!" Was the reply, "I don't want to see them at all!"

Shaking her head in confusion, Yuki did as she was bid, and happily let the floral arrangement brighten her small bedroom. In the other room, Tsukushi cursed the laughing fates.

The next day was worse. Instead of flowers, or notes, or presents, Junpei called. And how he got a hold of her unlisted phone number was a question Tsukushi would kill to have answered.

"Hello?"

"Tsukushi?"

"Yes. . . Who is this?" At first, she did not recognize the voice.

"Don't hang up! It's Jun. . . I need to talk to you."

"After all that's happened?" Tsukushi felt a chill run down her spine, the cold seeping into her voice, "We have nothing to discuss."

"Please, Tsukushi! I've made mistakes! You've made me realize what an ass I've been. I can change . . ."

"You should've thought of that years ago." Tsukushi shivered, feeling the cold weight of memory and regret wearing her down.

"I was wrong. I didn't know what I was doing!"

"Don't lie to me, Jun." No, that wasn't a shiver after all. Tsukushi sank into the couch, still clutching the phone. She was trembling now, feeling all her pain, her years of crushed self-esteem and unhappiness, all her isolation and loneliness revived simply by the sound of his voice, his self-serving lies. Wasn't it bad enough that he'd cornered her in the club, faced her with a display of his aggression, without having to subject her to his emotional manipulation as well? "You knew exactly what you were doing. And what about the show last month? You don't want me, you want to get yourself a cheap whore! Or did you forget that already, too?

"You never used to be like this." Even over the phone line, the disbelieving wonder in his voice was plain.

A sobbing laugh, "And what do you expect? You were the one who stole my friends from me! You stole my love, you stole my happiness. And then, you raped me, you stole my innocence! So what should I be like?" She hardly even noticed that she was wailing.

"No. It wasn't like that." As if he could remake her memories, "I'll make it up to you. I swear."

"Why? What's the point?"

"Because I love you."

"You never loved me." It was a flat statement, as if she was no longer capable of expressing emotion. "You only love yourself." And with that, she hung up the phone. That night, she hardly ate, so perturbed was she by Junpei's sudden wish to "make amends." What the hell was he thinking? What game was he playing at? She was sure it would make sense, if only she had someone to talk to. Someone she could trust to confide in, the let spill her secret pains and uncertainties. "Damnit, I need my own therapist!" she laughed bitterly. Her best, and some might claim, only, friend, Yuki, was no use. Tsukushi couldn't imagine burdening the bubbly blonde with reality. Hell, Yuki was content to go through life believing the best of everyone, and smiling at everything. Even now she was still coasting off of the month-old high of having been seduced by Soujiro. What kind of ambition is that anyway, to fuck a renowned womanizer? So yeah, Tsukushi might like Yuki, but she wasn't about to trust her friend's judgment enough to confide the real nasties to her. Instead, Tsukushi just closed her eyes, repeated her bedtime mantra, believing it even less than ever, and tried to find sleep.

The next day, fortunately, brought a brief respite. No flowers, no calls, nothing but the usual shitty day of dealing with Rui and Tsukasa, avoiding Akira and Soujiro. A shitty day made worse by her mind's constant cartwheels back to the issue of Junpei, despite her best efforts to put him from her mind. Tossing away her lunch half-eaten. Not even bothering to try to cook a dinner she wouldn't be able to eat.

Friday. Waiting for the surprise she knew would come. Though-- is it a surprise when you know it's coming? A long, weary, dragged-out day. At the end of it, Tsukushi wanted nothing more than to go home. Her throat was rubbed raw from screaming at Tsukasa, her brain was pounding from Rui's quiet head games. Yeah, a miserable day all 'round. So, it was with a cautious relief that she fled home that evening. Relief that the day was over, wariness for what Junpei might be scheming. No messages on the answering machine. Good! No flowers or gifts to be seen. Maybe he'd seen sense? And decided to leave her alone again? One could only hope.

"Tsukushi!" Yuki's cheerful voice from the kitchen. "You'll never guess who I met at work today!"

"Shit." So much for hope. "Yuki! You stay away from Junpei Oribe!"

"How did you know?"

"That man is evil. Scum of the earth. "

"Oh Tsukushi! You think so poorly of everyone. Being a doctor has made you so skeptical."

"I'm telling you for your own good. Stay away from Junpei Oribe. So what happened?"

A bit put out, Yuki sniffed, "I think by now I'm old enough to handle myself. Anyway. I was working as usual, when he came in. He was so gorgeous, it was like the line parted for him, as he made his way to the counter. He ordered a mocha latte, and was going to leave, but then, he recognized me from, you know, that show we went to this fall, when we went backstage, before you made me leave so abruptly." More than a bit of a pout there.

With a feeling of dread, Tsukushi frowned. Is this how it begins again? Is this how he turns my friends against me again? What can he hope to accomplish by that?

"So then," Yuki continued, "we flirted a bit. Then he asked if I knew you. I said of course, we live together. And he asked if you'd gotten the flowers he sent, and how you were doing. . . He was so nice. I don't know you don't like him. A bit intense though. He said you two knew each other in college! That must be so cool to know someone before they get famous and to have them still know you now!"

"Yuki. You're rambling." Tsukushi cut her off, "Please, I mean it, stay away from Junpei. He's not what he seems."

"Geez, Tsukushi! You don't need to sound so jealous." Yuki misunderstood completely, "I know he's interested in you. He told me all about it. How you broke his heart in college and he never recovered. You gotta give him another chance. He's adorable. . but even I can see, he's not after me. You're the one with all the luck."

"Oh god. He told you What?" Tsukushi couldn't believe her ears. "I can't take this shit. I gotta get out of here." So much for a relaxing evening at home. She grabbed her coat and headed for the street to clear her head. The last thing she needed right now was Yuki's prattling. Innocence had its place, but this was sure as hell not it. Unfortunately, pacing around the block a few times did nothing to ease the turmoil in her brain, and Tsukushi eventually gave up, retreating into the isolation of her room, where she lay, staring at the ceiling, for much of the night.

Saturday was no better. Yuki wouldn't shut up about Junpei. Yeah. She was just trying to be helpful in her sweetly naïve way, but didn't she have the slightest clue at all when might be a good time to give up? It didn't help either, that Jun came by the Coffeeshop again, and spun her some more wildly untrue tales about how things had been, back in the day, between him and Tsukushi. By Sunday, Tsukushi was starting to wonder how anyone could get to Yuki's age and still be so amazingly trusting, so impervious to nuance, oblivious to untruth. By Monday. Tsukushi was cursing the gods, and wondering how much more of Yuki's nattering she could take. The clueless girl couldn't tale a hint. Couldn't shut up to save her life, and refused to understand that really Tsukushi just wanted to be left alone. She'd been totally taken in by Junpei's charm, his web of lies, his carefully crafted story,

"Look, Yuki!" Tsukushi finally exploded, "You have to stop it. There's no fucking way I ever even want to speak to Jun again, much less date him."

"I know how Mr. Doumyouji and the others have poisoned you against him. He told me all about it."

"Shut up!" Tsukushi clenched her fists in frustration. "Would you even listen to yourself? A week ago, you couldn't get enough of the F4, you wanted to hear about them every day, the second I got home. But now, It's Junpei this and Junpwei that. Did you ever stop to wonder if maybe it wasn't quite so simple? If maybe he wasn't telling you the whole truth?"

"No." Yuki replied with wide-eyed sincerity, "I could see it in his eyes, how much he cared. How much he was holding inside. You just can't fake that sort of thing."

"Yes. You can." Tsukushi sighed, "He has before."

"You just don't know how to trust. Sometimes you just have to open up to people."

At that moment. Tsukushi hated Yuki more than anyone else, more than Akira, more than Tsukasa, more than Junpei. Only for a second, true, but even so, it was more negativity than the poor foolish blonde deserved. And, Tsukushi realized, she had a choice; she could let Yuki continue in ignorant bliss, unless she too was hurt by Junpei, she could argue with her fruitlessly without ever revealing the truth, or she could admit to her past, admit to all the ways Junpei had hurt her. It was a story she never wanted to relate to anyone, much less Yuki. And especially not now, not after her friends' cutting words. You just don't know how to trust. Well yes, she did. Or rather, once she did. Before. And she didn't appreciate her shallow friend taunting her about matters she understood nothing about. Tsukushi felt a stinging in her eye, a tear forming in the corner. And for once, she felt no need to restrain herself in her response to her friend.

"Fuck you Yuki," she spat bitterly, "You know nothing about it, and I was hoping you never would have to. You should never have to make the same mistakes I made. I try to warn you, but do you ever once think I might have reasons for my words? Do you ever once think that maybe things were different when I was younger? I was once like you. Smiling, surrounded by friend, trusting, and naïve. Before Jun came along. I trusted in him, and what did he do? He drove my friends off, made me fall in love with him. . . and then, you know what he did, Yuki? He raped me. So much for trust. So much for opening up. So fuck you and your Junpei this and Junpei that. I don't fucking care any more. I've warned you, before, and I'm warning you now, stay the fuck away from Junpei Oribe."

During Tsukushi's rant, Yuki's eyes had widened and her face paled, "Oh my god Tsukushi, I'm sorry. I didn't know. . .'" But her apologies fell on an empty room, as Tsukushi had already grabbed her coat and fled into the night. Fled from the sight of the pity and the shock in her roommate's eyes. She didn't want her pity, or anyone else's. She was a success God Damn It, a good doctor. A good person. Right? Right. So why did she feel so hollow inside?

TBC

--- Well, much to my chagrin, I've been finding myself staring at the computer meaning to write a chapter, but I keep getting distracted, thinking, I should work on my manuscript, I should work on my thesis. But in the end, none of these things gets done. It sucks so much ass. I got more writing done when I was taking classes and studying for exams every 2 weeks and stressed out of my mind about the immediate future instead of 6 months from now. Argghhh. I think grad school has sucked what little creative spirit I had left right out. I wonder how much worse things will get when I go back to medical school. But I apologize for the rant, I spent the day drunk after my labmate's thesis defense and the department holiday party, and now that I'm sober I'm just feeling the hate at the world again. In other news, I'm looking for vacation advice. So, do any of my lovely readers live in New Zealand? See, Several of my friends and I are taking a vacation there this spring, and after demolishing my pitiful funds to fly halfway around the world with people I only kinda-sorta get along with while sober, I really want to make sure I don't miss any spectacularly must-see/do things. Especially such things as might not be mentioned in travel guides? So help? Email curdled.milk (at) gmail . com (minus the spaces and with proper at symbol), and I promise for each piece of good advice, if any, I'll post a chapter posthaste.---


	36. ch 35 in which violence is enacted

Tuesday morning rolled round, as it was wont to do, following closely on the heels of Monday. Tsukushi rolled out of bed, as She was wont to do, each morning of the week, allowing the contact of the cold floor with her bare feet to jolt her into full wakefulness. This didn't work quite s well today as usual, for she was sleep deprived from sneaking home late last night, in an effort to avoid Yuki, as well as from setting her alarm an entire hour earlier today for the same reason. So it can easily be appreciated just how bad a mood she was still in, by the time she arrived at the F4's residence. She hardly even noticed that she was an hour earlier than usual, as she ditched her jacket in the living room and headed for the stairs.

"Morning Rui."

"Go Away." The lanky man was sprawled across his bed as usual, shielding his eyes from the murky light filtering in from heavily clouded skies.

"And good morning to you too." She plopped own on the desk and glared at him. Today was not a day for testing her patience. "Do you think you could try a more civilized greeting for once? Like Hi, Doc, how are you? Good morning, perhaps? You know, the ritual exchange of pleasantries."

Rui just shrugged blankly, as if to say, "Who cared, who needed such effort?" Not he, that was for sure.

"Listen you!" Tsukushi rose to her full height, such as it was, and prepared to take out her frustrations on her patient. Not a good way to begin the day. Fortunately, her tirade was interrupted, unvoiced, but the sound of another voice yelling quite loudly, from somewhere down the hall.

". . . The Fuck? Tsukasa, What the hell have you been doing? . . . " Soujiro, for it was his voice, paused as if listening to a quieter answer. "We didn't need to know? We Didn't Need to KNOW?! Who gave you the right decide that? It concerns us, of course we have a right to know! You Asshole, This is our life too!"

Surreptitiously, Tsukushi and Rui glanced at each other, as if to acknowledge that his chewing-out would have to wait for another time, and cocked their ears, trying to catch the rest of the dispute.

"It's my money. I can do what I want with it."

"But It's my life! I don't want it touched by your dirty money!"

"What, you want to get screwed by the label? You want to talk to their lawyers? Get forced to be a mindlessly commercial product? You'd like that, wouldn't you? You'd be a pretty boy again, you know. Whatever they want. Are you a little lap dog, Nishikado, are you? Yip! yip! You'd sing for them. For every little bone."

Soujiro's reply was merely an incoherently strangled curse as he launched himself at Tsukasa. Even from Rui's room, Tsukushi could hear the sounds of a thunderous scuffle ensue.

"Soujiro, Tsukasa, Stop it!" Akira had finally arrived on the scene. "Come on, Not again. . . ."

Rui rolled his eyes and looked back up at the ceiling. Tsukushi, meanwhile, frowned, having not heard the men argue like this before.

"They do this often?" She demanded at last, turning back to Rui.

"Enh." Rui shrugged unhelpfully, and returned to studying the cracks on the ceiling, and listening to the music playing in his own head.

"Useless!" Tsukushi stormed to her feet, "Acting like children! Everyone! Well all I fucking want is a little peace and fucking quiet! For just one day. Is that too much to ask?" In this house, that would have to be considered a rhetorical question. No matter. Tsukushi had had enough. She stomped down the hall, to Tsukasa's room where the fight was taking place.

She slammed the door open, exhausted fury blazing in her eyes. A second's pause, to take in the scene. Tsukasa, despite a bloodied nose, was plainly winning; he and Soujiro were grappling each other like enraged bulls, muscles straining, and veins bulging in their arms and necks. Occasionally, one or the other would lash out with their feet in an ineffectual attempt to destabilize the other. Tsukasa was much the stronger and would occasionally shake Soujiro roughly, or drop his hold for a split second to ram punches at his erstwhile friend. On the sidelines, Akira was sitting, a disgruntled spectator, at the computer. His attention wandered back and forth between the combatants, like he'd seen it all before, and to the monitor where solid blocks of text engaged his attention much more closely. At least, that is, until Tsukushi arrived on the scene.

"Stop It This Instant." Her tone blaringly strident above the grunts of the struggling men. Nevertheless, ignored by all but Akira, who covered his ears. "That's It!" Barely conscious of her actions, Tsukushi took three quick strides across the room, and lashed out. One swift jab to Soujiro's solar plexus, and a snake-swift kick to Tsukasa's gut, and the two men were felled, the breath whooshing from them. In the sudden silence, even Akira dared not speak a word against the little doctor's fury. "Right then." Tsukushi brushed her hands together, as if to clean them from their brief exertion. "I'm sick and tired of you all. You act like children. You make my life hell. You make each other's lives hell. I bet after this shit, you two weren't even going to be speaking to each other for the next month." She didn't even need to see Soujiro's shamefaced blink, Tsukasa's mutinous scowl, or Akira's amused smile to know she was correct. "I don't need this shit. You don't need this shit. I don't care what the hell you were fighting over, but you're damned well going to sit down and discuss it like adults. There will be no yelling, no sulking, no cursing, no violence, no drinking, no insults, or I will personally make you wish you'd never been born. You hear me? You need to learn manners. You need to learn interpersonal skills. I don't care if you say you already have them, they plainly don't work for shit. But you will deal, and you will find a solution, got it?" She flexed her knuckles menacingly, a surprisingly effective threat from a slight girl like herself. "You," glaring now at Akira, "Get Rui. I'm sure this, whatever it is, concerns him too, even if he pretends otherwise. And you two" eyeing Tsukasa and Soujiro, "Apologize to each other. Now. . . . Got it? Right. I'm taking the rest of the day off. Don't bother calling, I won't answer the phone. And don't even think about complaining about it. You have your group therapy assignment. Get to it."

With that, Tsukushi turned and stalked out the door, only allowing herself to slump exhaustedly once she was safely out of sight, "God, I feel like such a poser sometimes." She mumbled miserably to herself, "I hit my patient. I actually hit my patient. And I call myself a doctor." The yelling, that she could almost excuse to herself, but not really, not when she really thought about it. It wasn't fair for her to take her personal problems out on her patients, just because she was having a bad day. She knew that, just as she knew she had to have patience with these troubled men. After all, they'd experienced no less emotional trauma in their lives than she. But it was hard to like tem, hard to sympathize when they insisted on being so unreachable, so capricious in their actions and in their moods. And that is why she needed to take the day off, to sit alone and recover her perspective, so that she could forgive these men for being me. For being only human, and re-approach their problems with fresh perspective. To wipe out her own tainting bitterness and work more for them rather than at them. Perhaps she could find a quiet café, spread out her notes, sip tea and review what little progress had been made so far? Yes, a little solitude, a little quiet, no one hassling her, no one demanding her attention, just a problem to be solved, a therapeutic approach pursued.

Tsukushi thought she'd like that. With a little luck, maybe her hands would even stop shaking after a while. . .

TBC

---A very very short chapter, yes. but I'd rather get it out now, than attempt to write all that comes next in a reasonable time period and make you wait wait wait.---


	37. ch 36 in which boys argue

"Well then," Akira announced into the silence left by Tsukushi's abrupt departure, "I guess I'll go fetch Rui then, shall I?"

"No need." Rui's flat monotone interrupted Akira in the act of getting to his feet.

"Oh good then." Akira responded with false cheer, trying to dispel the tension that still lingered in the air, "I guess we're all here."

"Oh shut up, would you?" Soujiro sighed, "You're not helping any."

"Now play nice, kiddies," Rui's lips twitched up in the faintest shadow of a smile, as he inched into the room, "Didn't you hear the good doctor? I did, and I wasn't even here."

"Well actually," Akira commented, "I was just reading this fascinating document here." Indicating Tsukasa's computer with a wave of his hand.

"Yes. That." Soujiro redirected his anger back at its original object: Tsukasa. Tsukasa in turn, moved to sit sullenly on the bed, and glare obstinately at the accusing stares of his friends. "You have a lot of explaining to do."

"I just want to state," Rui interrupted unexpectedly, "That I'm with Tsukasa on this. Whatever it is. If it's his money, he can do with it as he pleases. It's not up to you to control."

"You would like that philosophy." Soujiro muttered.

"Come on, can't we just talk about this without fighting?" Akira, again.

"There's nothing to debate." Tsukasa finally spoke, as if he'd been fighting internally with himself about what to say. "It's already done."

"Am I the only one here who doesn't know what he's talking about?"

"I thought you didn't care about anything!" Soujiro spat spitefully, "Why don't you just go back to your room and stare at the ceiling some more?"

"Soujiro!" Akira admonished, even while Rui rose to his feet,

"It was only of academic interest anyway." He calmly said, even as the light dimming in his eyes belied his disinterest.

"Rui, sit your sorry ass back down." Tsukasa ordered in tones that brooked no argument. The closest he could come to a silent apology to Rui for Soujiro's behavior and a tacit plea for him to remain involved, shining through in his intent gaze, "Since those two seem to have the urge to stick their noses in where it's not needed, I'll tell you what's up. Our erstwhile employers underestimated our -- my," he amended after a sharp glance from Akira, "desire to remain independent. This breach of contract suit of theirs -- they could probably win it. By conventional means. It's all a matter of owning the right people. And they do. I did some research." He paused again to glare at Soujiro, "What, you think that just because I'm not civil, I'm dumb? You always have been the bigger idiot than I." His sharp features twisted in rising anger, "I'm not a dumbass, My mother taught me well. I learned more from her than I ever learned in college!" He stopped and took several deep breathes to let his volume subside, as if he was replaying Tsukushi's warning in his head, "They were gonna grab us by the balls and not let go. Our lawyers were good but they weren't dirty enough. You can't win a rigged game by playing fair, You know that!"

It was as if he was pleading for confirmation. Rui knew just what he was talking about. Life on the streets didn't play nice, either. You had to fight dirty to get by, the rules were different. Civilized rules were for sheep and idiots. He caught Tsukasa's eye, and nodded deliberately. Feeling himself being caught up even more in the web of shared experience that bound him to this life.

Soujiro however, still looked skeptical, and Tsukasa continued. "It doesn't matter what you think. I fixed it. I was already mucking around with my inheritance. . ." Akira looked confused, and surprisingly, it was Rui who laughed at his ignorance, and answered his silent question,

"How do you think the good doctor was persuaded to dedicate her life to our little lost cause?"

"I thought he just bribed the hospital?"

"In this day and age?" Rui lofted a skeptical eyebrow at his friend's innocence, "You can't get far with bribery alone. If you could, Tsukasa would've won this case for you guys months ago."

"Blackmail, Akira. Blackmail." Soujiro chimed in, "You've got a file in front of you on the sex life of the most recent lawyer our former label just attempted to hire to take on the case against us. It appears he likes to molest small children." It was unclear if the disgust in his voice was for the material or for the man who would stoop to using such methods.

"How do you get this stuff?" Akira paged down the screen, fascinated by the listing of names, dates, places, even detailed descriptions of acts. "I bet the cops would love this shit."

"The cops don't have my connections." Tsukasa shrugged self-deprecatingly.

"Plus, it's fucking illegal." Soujiro scowled furiously.

"Don't be such a bleeding heart." Again it was Rui who surprised them all by replying before Tsukasa could.

"All I wanted was to find the latest set of lyrics Tsukasa was writing so I could work on the score," Soujiro began tangentially, "But I clicked the wrong file, and what did I see? Fucking child molesters and drug addicts. Extramarital affairs and graft. Tsukasa. This is wrong! You can't fight our battles like this!"

"It's the system. You have to work it." Tsukasa muttered adamantly.

"This? This is not the system. The system is courts of law, our rights versus what we owe the label. We'll fight their spurious claims, we'll win, and we'll be free to perform again. That's what we all want!"

"You're living in a dream." Tsukasa laughed, "This is how it works. If you want to win, you have to play by the real rules. And besides, what's done is done. I spent my money, and it's all automatic from there. I just get the reports."

"But it's not done! You're just fighting a delaying action." Akira accused, "All you're doing is digging up dirt on the lawyers. . .sooner or later they'll find someone to take the case who is clean. And then we'll be right back where we started."

"No we won't." Tsukasa denied, "Cause I got the agents working on the actual bastards behind this. It just takes longer to get what we need against CEO's and such -- they've been at this game and hide their tracks better. But sooner or later, we'll get them."

"You're bringing us down to that level, then" Soujiro was back on a self-righteous jag, "I'm a musician damn it. Not a mobster! Who's to say that they won't dig up dirt on us?"

"What dirt?" Rui laughed again, a harsh ugly sound, "You said it yourself, we're musicians. What dirt can they possibly have on us that would scandalize anyone? I'm an addict. Big deal. You're a slut, and Akira's an adulterer. Tsukasa's just violent. And rich off dirty money. Even Sinatra had mob connections. That's expected of people like us. At least you're not a pedophile, a murderer, or necrophiliac. And if you were, it'd just enhance your rep. But lawyers, businessmen? To expose their personal life is a loss of face. The more fucked up, the greater the loss of prestige. Exact opposite of our world."

"But that doesn't make it right." Soujiro was beginning to sense the futility of his argument.

"Soujiro." Rui's tone softened, and he met his companion's eyes directly, as if about to impart some great truth, "No one ever said it was. But That's Life"

Akira, for his part, perked up suddenly, and stared at Rui, as if seeing him for the first time. "You've finally accepted it then?" in surprised disbelief. Almost immediately, Rui clenched his jaw shut, realizing he'd given away more than he'd meant to. As if grudging each healing step he'd ever taken.

"Are we done here?" Tsukasa gruffly interrupted, to shield Rui from having to answer by shifting attention back to himself.

"Of course we're not done," Soujiro, mercurial, rising to the bait, "Who appointed you god? Who gave you the right to do this shit without consulting us? You could have asked."

"And you would have said no." Tsukasa glared, hating this back and forth of words, words, words. Action was what had been called for and action was what he had taken, what more was needed? What was there to discuss?

"Damned right I'd have said no."

"Well there you go. It needed to be done. It was done. You didn't know. You're innocent. No one can blame you. You tried to stop me. Too late. Don't worry about it."

"Don't worry. Don't worry, he says. It's my life too."

"We're all in this together, guys." Akira reminded the both of them, rather pointedly.

"I'm tired." Rui. Bored of the debate already.

"Oh, go away." Soujiro waved a dismissive hand at the door.

"I'm tired too." Tsukasa's low growl more a demand than a statement.

"You go away, then."

"It's my room.

"Fine then, I'll go!"

"Akira. . ." almost a threat,

"Look Tsukasa." Akira began placatingly, "I can't say I approve. But I'm with Rui. What's done is done. I won't fight you now. But I hope you aren't just digging us deeper into a pit. I don't like your methods. But I'll do what it takes to get our freedom back. I'll go with the flow for now, but you need to be more open with us. We need to know what's going on. You're a part of us too. You have to let us in." Tsukasa had always been big on bluster and action, but not so much into the touchy feely "this is me" sort of revelatory discussions. It was amazing that Dr. Makino ever got enough truly personal information out of him to work with in her therapy. Maybe she didn't, at that. Maybe that was the problem.

Well, Akira sighed, as he turned to leave, at least they'd learned something today. They'd learned Rui was less aloof than he pretended, and that alone had to be worth something. If only the doctor had been there to see his progress. Now if only they could do something about the latest rift between Soujiro and Tsukasa. Or about the stress from the lawsuit. Or their inability to perform in public -- their necessary catharsis-- until after that suit's resolution. And how the lack of release led to heightened tensions among them. Until the entire house felt like it was pulled tight as a guitar string, thrumming with energy. Perhaps the doc could feel it, at that, Akira mused, and that was why she was so wound up this morning. Or was that yet another issue, another mystery which the young woman was slow to reveal? As if they needed more issues around here.

------

The room was quiet at last. Tsukasa sprawling back on the bed. Rui, oddly enough, remaining, silent and immobile on the hard wooden floor.

Tsukasa felt the urge to take a drink, or to throw a few punches at the wall, or perhaps merely to go sulk and glower spitefully in the den, to show his displeasure at the way his friends questioned his leadership. He deliberately fought these urges and did nothing -- instead, he took a page from Rui's book and stared silently at the cracks in the ceiling. Tracing the paths that they made as they crisscrossed, and the shadows from the flaking edges of plaster. A very hypnotic and calming activity, he found. No wonder Rui spent so much time at it.

"What do you really think?" he forced himself to speak at last. The words directed at the statue that was Rui.

An elegant shrug, barely audible in the shifting of cloth against skin. All the answer that Tsukasa could discern from his position on the bed.

"That's it? You don't care? Or you just won't say?"

Another shrug.

"God damn it, Rui. Don't play your games with me!" Unconsciously echoing Dr. Makino's words from earlier that day. "How long have I known you? Long enough to know when you're hiding something. And you're always hiding something. You play your games with Tsu -- Doctor Makino" Quickly covering up his slip, "You play them with Akira and Soujiro, but you won't play them with me! Either you assume your role as a functional member of this household, with duties and responsibilities, or you go back to being an incompetent. I'll send you back to therapy. Don't think I won't. You'll hate every goddamned second of it. And there'll be no Dr. Makino to see you through. You think you're crazy now? Just wait. You've tried my patience long enough. I'm not stupid, I have eyes as well as anyone, and I know that you're playing at something, I just don't know what it is!" It was plain that that ignorance made Tsukasa very, very angry.

"Ask Soujiro." Rui's monotone was calculated to provoke.

"I'm asking you." Dangerously close to the edge.

And so Rui taunted a little more, "You act so smart, but you're so blind still. So biased in your own way that you can't see what's in front of you. Or is it that you're just too stubborn?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"What do you think Dr. Makino is doing now?" Switching to airily vacuous in the blink of an eye. As if staking a claim to something. Something that Tsukasa couldn't understand. Or perhaps simply refused to see

"The hell does that have to do with anything?"

"She seemed rather upset this morning."

"You don't think that had anything to do with you?"

Rui shrugged, and left the question hanging in the air, for Tsukasa to mull over on his own. "I'm going to go take a nap." He announced, although it was only midmorning, and silently departed.

Tsukasa, finally alone, frowned, and got up to pace in front of his desk, reviewing Rui's gibes and cryptic questions. The doctor? Makino? Was Rui fighting with him about the doctor? Was that it? Was he upset at losing his day's sessions today? Is that why his threat to recommit Rui had struck such a nerve? It never occurred to him that Rui might also be jealous of the time He spent with the young doctor, might be worried about what bonds she might be forming with her other patient. How could Tsukasa know, when he spent his days writing and scheming and practicing, with only the too-short (for him) hours spent with Tsukushi to distract him from his responsibilities, and not enough real time to spend focused on what might be going on in the minds of his friends.

But that, Tsukasa finally resolved, was a situation he would endeavor, in the future, to change, starting today. Or maybe, given the amount of shit he sill had to do now, tomorrow might be a better time to begin.

TBC

--Merry Christmas, yo. There was going to be a lot more to this chapter, but I got home tonight to find that the guy, who, years ago, was my first boyfriend (sorta) in college, just got engaged. So I went out and got drunk instead of finishing the chapter. (ironically enough, I called up the guy who is half of the real reason that . . . . and I never had much of a real relationship, and went drinking with him, right after I emailed the girl who is the other half of the reason, to spread the gossip. Two of my best friends, now, still, and god do I feel old. and drunk.. how did the time slip away? So yeah. I figured, I'd post what I have rather than making you all wait until whenever it is I have more time, since I can barely type right now. . .

So yeah. I was going to do review responses but yeah.. . . the typing thing. So I'll summarize instead of individual replies,

1: the swearing. Yeah yeah. I get that complaint a lot. Unfo, my friends and I happen to talk like that. so, so do the characters I write. words are words. The more you use them, the less they mean. . . sorry for the offense, but I hardly notice it myself anymore. Only when talking to my boss do I switch to proper language, and that involves a shift to a whole separate part of my brain to do. . . .

2. Yuki. Thank god I'm not the only one who thinks she's an annoying twit in the manga. God, my version here may be a bit overblown in the stupid innocence quotient, but damn. I never could stand the story arcs she appeared in. the yuki-soujiro arc just made me ill.

3. And as usual. Thank you all so much for your kind reviews and encouragement. I'm always psyched that people can relate to my writing and enjoy the vicarious angst and suffering!

4. Next chapter preview (added bonus if you can determine which of the following are true!) Tsukushi wonders why the world is out to get her, and gets paid some unexpected visits. Yuki realizes the error of her ways, or does she? Tsukasa shows another side of his personality! Soujiro and Akira share a tender moment! Rui speaks using actual inflection! The author goes to sleep! ---


	38. ch 37 in which Tsukushi is late

The next morning, the F4 were slow to wake. Outside, the hazy clouds of yesterday had darkened and gathered their strength to produce a drenching rain. Who wanted to get out of bed in weather like that, especially after having spent half the night furiously jamming down in the basement? Eventually, however, someone had to get up, someone like Tsukasa. And when he did, and went downstairs to make coffee, and just happened to catch sight of the kitchen clock. . . Well, then, the house was shaken by a furious roar of, "Where is She?" For, it was almost 10:30, and there was no sign of everyone's favorite doctor. Who should have been there long before, and who was sometimes early, and always bitchy, but never late. Until now. Angrily, Tsukasa stormed around the house, checking each and every room, and waking his friends besides.

"Chill, man." Akira sleepily admonished after Tsukasa had herded the whole group into conference down in the den. "She probably just took the day off."

"She took yesterday off. She's supposed to be here now." Tsukasa sulked obstinately.

"She would have told someone if she weren't coming." Rui agreed, not quite managing to stifle the yawn that followed.

"And you're not more concerned?" Tsukasa demanded.

"It's probably your fault she's late anyway." Rui shrugged, "Or Akira, or Soujiro."

"Spiteful brat."

"My fault?" Soujiro looked puzzled. "Why mine?"

"Shut up. Who cares?" Tsukasa looked ready to kill, "I want to know where the fuck is she?"

"Why don't you call her apartment?" Akira, at least was useful for something, "Or the hospital."

"Not the hospital." That was Rui.

"Why not? Oh. Might get her in trouble. . ." Akira nodded. "That makes it harder."

"Oh what do you care if she gets in trouble. She's not doing her job. So it's only right that someone hears about it." Soujiro decided to take the hard line position.

"You will not call the hospital." Rui made it sound like a threat. Apparently, he didn't want anything messing with His doctor.

"Fine, fine. Whatever." Akira made a placating gesture. "What's her home number? Anybody know?" Surprisingly (or perhaps it wasn't really), Rui was the one who rattled off the digits from memory, despite never having, to anyone's knowledge, ever called the place before."

"Yes hello." Akira put on his smooth voice as he spoke on the phone, refusing to allow the indignantly impatient Tsukasa anywhere near it, "Is this Yuki? . . Hi Yuki, This is Akira Mimasaka. . ." He paused, grimaced, and held the phone slightly away from his ears at the squeal of recognition. " . . .Yeah," he continued heedless of her excitement, "Do you know where Dr. Makino might be? She's late today, and we're rather concerned. . . Oh. . Uhhuh, . . . right. . ." he began looking progressively more pensive as he listened to Yuki rapidly sober up, and start babbling in the most annoyingly maudlin fashion. "Shit. . . Do you have any idea where she might have gone? No? Damn. Well. . .Thanks for your help." He hung up the phone with an abrupt click.

"So?" Tsukasa demanded, "What the hell?"

"Yeah. . . It looks like we're not her only problem."

"Duh." Soujiro sneered moodily, "Doctor dearie is one fucked-up chick. Of course we're not her only problem." Apparently he hadn't yet forgiven her for hitting him the previous day, "We knew that already. It's been obvious since like, day one."

"Soujiro." Akira shot him a sharp look, "Shut up. Your little miss Yuki hasn't seen the doc since Monday night, two days ago. And guess why?" He paused for dramatic emphasis, looking at the group's respective bored, blank, and angry looks, before continuing, "Apparently Doc M had a fight with her roomie over, get this, Junpei."

"The fuck?" Soujiro swore.

"I didn't get the details," Akira shrugged, though he had his suspicions, "But whatever it was, that dumb chick just burst into tears even mentioning it to me. I guess Dr M's pretty upset at her. She walked out Monday night, and Yuki hasn't seen her since. Isn't even sure if she came home yesterday or not."

"So that wasn't helpful." Soujiro concluded.

"Not in the least. "Akira nodded, "But interesting."

"Hmm." This time it was Tsukasa who managed to look both thoughtful and pissed off all at once. Leaving his friends to wonder what gears could possibly be turning in that thick skull of his. "So. . . Next. . .Rui." he turned to fix Rui with his intense gaze, "What do you know about her habits?"

"Huh? What?" Rui tried to look innocent.

"You've known her a long time. You spent plenty of time in and out of the hospital. Where would she be likely to go late at night, if she wasn't at home? Boyfriend's house? Library, girlfriend's house? Is she with Junpei?" He spat the name.

"Umm. . ." Akira interrupted, "As I recall, she hates Jun. Remember? Why she's fighting with her roommate about him, I can't imagine. What's there to say?"

"So, where does that leave us?" Tsukasa chose to ignore his lapse of memory.

"She doesn't have friends." Rui responded flatly.

"That's pathetic." Soujiro sneered, trying to pretend like he could have other friends other than the F4.

"No more than us." Rui replied levelly,

"Oh stop fighting. " Akira threw up his hands.

"So. . " Rui pondered, ignoring Tsukasa's twitching impatience, "Library? Or other?. . . Ah. . ." A slow sweet smile of inspiration graced his lips as an idea struck him, he who knew the doctor better than anyone else here, "I remember, one time. They brought me into the hospital around 3 or 4 AM. So close that time." A wistful look of remembrance at that, "She was off that night, but they called her anyway. She'd only been given my case a week previously. She was so new, her internship had just begun. I think the nurses just wanted to haze her or something. It took a long time for her to arrive. I didn't care. Hell, I didn't even know. I was in a coma, too out of it to know anything about that until later. By the time they'd stabilized me, brought me around, she'd arrived. She was carrying sandwiches of all things. As if I could've eaten them. As if I could've eaten anything the shape I was in. I thought she was just another one of the endless series of shrinks they threw at me until then. She offered me one. I thought it was just stupidity, after all, there I was, IV dripping in my arm, hadn't eaten in a week, just woken up most unpleasantly from my lovely little coma. As like to vomit as to eat. So when I didn't respond. She just ate one herself, and then started talking. Like I was a friend of hers or something. Describing the food to me, the way it tasted, the place she'd gotten it from, the thinking she'd been doing there. I'd never had a doctor ramble at me like that before. Usually they were the ones trying to get me to talk. But I pretended to ignore her anyway. I'd hoped she'd go away and leave me alone. Instead, what she said to me was this, "I'd give you this sandwich now, because I can see you need it, but I know you wouldn't eat it. But, We'll see, Mr. Hanazawa Rui, which of us is the more determined one. My name, you know, means a kind of weed. A stubborn weed that defies all attempts to eradicate it. A weed that will not be ignored. You try it now, but someday, I swear to you, You will eat this sandwich. You will enjoy it, and you will ask me where I got it. I may even take you there. But Right now, I'm going to eat it. 'Cause I need all the strength I can get. I can tell this is going to be a long night." And she did. Damn, that girl could eat." Rui shook his head, smiling absently at the memory. Right then, was when, unwillingly, he'd begun to form the tiniest spark of respect for the diminutive doctor and her hidden strengths.

"What the fuck was the point of all that shit?" Tsukasa, however, was not so appreciative of Rui's tale. He hadn't the time or patience for reminiscences.

"Oh," Rui blinked, "didn't I say? If she's anywhere, she's at Deli Haus. I never did try their food, but she swore it was the only thing to get her through the night. I guess it helps that they're one of the few 24 hour restaurants in the city." He shrugged.

"Well, why didn't you just say so?" Tsukasa growled, looking as if he wanted to punch Rui for being so unfocused.

Rui didn't answer, merely shrugged again, and leaned back into the couch, waiting for Tsukasa to go away and leave him alone. Which, soon enough, in a huff of barely stifled rage, he did.

"Geez," Soujiro muttered after Tsukasa had left the house on his quest of doctor retrieval, "What's he so worked up about? So she's late. One day. Just once. She's probably just sneaking some time off. She'll show eventually, right."

"You don't understand Tsukasa." Rui answered lazily, without even opening his eyes from where he lay on the couch.

"I don't understand Tsukasa? As I recall," Soujiro retorted tartly, "You're the one that abandoned us and had to be dragged back kicking and screaming from some ghetto hellhole, because you were too damned selfish to care about the rest of us, and you say I don't understand Tsukasa?"

"You don't." Rui cracked an eye at Soujiro. "If you did, you'd realize, he's worried. You don't know Tsukushi very well either." And again, that was all he would say, despite Soujiro's repeated attempts to elicit a response. . .

--------

Elsewhere, that is to say, in a bright, loud, subterranean room in a once trendy party of town, Tsukushi was sleeping. Her head rested on one arm, while the other hand, cradling a long-since-cold cup of coffee, barely avoided slipping into a greasy spot on the dented and scratched table she used as a pillow. Around her, loud angry music played, while a lone waitress or two scowled and skulked about their duties, seeing to the dribbles of late-breakfasting customers that still found their way down the stairs, and ensuring that no-one disturbed Tsukushi snoozing away at her corner table. Into this scene, at last, stomped Tsukasa. One look sufficed to take in the entirety of the grimy diner, and as one disgruntled waitress stepped up to sullenly guide him to an empty table, he abruptly demanded, "How long has She been here?" indicating Tsukushi with a jerk of his head.

"What do you care?" The waitress snapped, glaring at him, undaunted by the ire in his eyes.

"She's late. One of her patients was expecting her, over 2 hours ago."

"Well, why didn't you page her then?" Mary, the waitress, inquired, demonstrating that she knew more about Tsukushi than Tsukasa had expected, "Oh wait. I remember now, why she doesn't carry her pager anymore." She gave Tsukasa a long speculative glance, refusing to give him the satisfaction of admitting to knowing who He was. "It ain't no emergency, is it? No? Well then, sit down, order breakfast, or get out. And stay the fuck away from Tsukushi."

Bewildered, Tsukasa opened his mouth to rage at the impertinent woman, but a sudden spurt of curiosity tamped down his temper, and he snapped his jaw shut with a click, resolved to find out why this woman was so oddly protective of His doctor

Fortunately, it wasn't more than a few minutes, before Tsukushi's eyes blinked blearily open, and she yawned and stretched, regarding her cold coffee with some confusion. In an instant, the surly waitress had abandoned another customer to arrive at her side.

"Mary?" Tsukushi murmured wonderingly. "When did you get in? Wasn't Laura just here?"

"No, silly, She went home hours ago." Mary laughed, "You want breakfast?"

"No," Tsukushi sighed, "Just coffee." Suddenly she perked up, and smiled brightly. From where he lurked behind a newspaper, even Tsukasa could see that it was an expression that suited her well, and he realized that this was probably the first time he'd ever seen the bitter woman smile so cheerfully. "I almost forgot! How's the baby?"

"No baby now." Mary smiled back at Tsukushi. "He'll be walking before long."

"My god, they grow up so fast! And you look so good, I take it you're not being kept up nights anymore."

"Thank god, not." The two women continued their conversation, the waitress totally ignoring the rest of her customers. Oddly, to Tsukasa, no one in management seemed to care, and even the rest of the customers shrugged off the poor service, as if it were something normal here. However, what surprised Tsukasa most, was the simple fact that, yes, Tsukushi could smile, and actually be pleasant. He'd never witnessed that side of her before, and wondered, now, just what the surly waitress could possibly have done to have gotten on the young doctor's good side. Sadly, his musings were abruptly interrupted by the startlingly loud song that blared out of the diner's speakers. For it was a familiar piece -- his music, his and the rest of the F4.

Tsukasa wasn't the only one jolted by the sound. Tsukushi sat bolt upright and stared wide-eyed at Mary.

"Holy shit, What Time is it? I'm late, They're going to kill me." Hastily, she pulled her stuff together, and got up. Absently, she gathered her dirty mugs and made ad if to deliver them to the kitchen. Only the gentle touch of Mary's hand on her arm stopped her.

"Tsukushi. You don't have to do that. It's been a long time since you worked here, you know."

"I know." Tsukushi sighed.

"Laura told me, " Mary continued, "When she went off shift, that you came in after 4 this morning. It's been a long time you'd done that too. You don't work at the hospital anymore, so we knew you weren't on call. You looked bad, she said, so we let you sleep. You look like you needed it."

"Thanks," Tsukushi interrupted, wondering where this was going.

"Sometimes you act like you don't know it, but you still have friends here. Really. You stop by anytime and one of the girls will look after you. " She paused again, then continued warily, "A man came in this morning looking for you."

"Jun!" Tsukushi gasped, her face paling in anger or in fear.

"Not quite." The older woman smiled, trying to reassure Tsukushi, "One of your. . . Patients? (Yes, we still get some of your former co-workers in here. They do gossip, you know.)" She said parenthetically, by way of explanation. "We've been pretending not to recognize him. But I think that song Ami just put on gave it away. Right over there." Tsukushi glanced in the indicated direction, her face going through several interesting color changes before settling on the red of pissed-off fury. Even Mary hadn't quite expected this reaction. Nor had Tsukasa, for that matter, who sat, briefly frozen, as Tsukushi marched up to him, hands on her hips and glared at him for one long moment before the explosion came.

"And Just what the hell do you think you're doing? Who gave you the right to follow me? Isn't it enough that you fuck with my life, but now you have to go sneaking around watching me? And how the hell did you find me anyway? Who'd you have to pay off this time?" God how she wanted to hit something. Her fists clenched spasmodically as she fought the impulse to bury them in his too-pretty face. As for Tsukasa, how could he respond to that? He couldn't exactly tell her he'd tracked her down because he was worried about her, now could he? Of course not. Instead, he covered up the truth with rage of his own.

"You were late. You have a responsibility to Us -- to Rui. And instead you run off to eat breakfast? You stupid bitch. What if something had happened?" but what he meant was 'What if something had happened to you?' Not even knowing what could possibly have happened, but worried all the same by her uncharacteristic behavior.

But now, Tsukushi's control snapped and she did strike him, just barely managing to change from a solid fisted punch to an openhanded slap at the very last second. And, man could she pack a wallop. Tsukasa's face would have been stinging for hours from the force of that blow, if his ears hadn't been ringing from the force of her words.

"Dumb bitch? Dumb bitch? Is that what you think of me? You stupid self-centered ass! You have no right! You keep trying and trying to control my life, to buy me and box me in. You think your money and your needs give you the right to fuck with me as you will. But they don't. I've seen people in far worse shape than you, who demanded far less. And got far more. You don't want me, you want an emotional punching bag. You don't even care about getting better, you just want to have someone around so you can pretend you're trying, while you sit back and wallow in your self-indulgent misery. You ruin other's lives and call yourself a leader. Don't even try to deny it! You manipulate and scheme and don't care whose feelings you trample on in the process," (An accusation that, yesterday, Soujiro would have agreed wholeheartedly with.) She ended her brief tirade with the barb to end them all, her voice catching in a raggedy sob as she gasped, "I don't know who I hate more, you or Junpei. Sometimes, I can't even tell the difference between you."

And this hurt Tsukasa more than any kick in the crotch possibly could. While he might not show it well, (or at all really) he did like and respect the doctor. Why else would he have insisted on her being the one to treat them? Why else would he have bothered tracing her here? But here she was, comparing him to Junpei? The snake who'd got him in such legal trouble to begin with? Did she really think so poorly of him? Of them all? Slowly his face reddened, then paled, as thoughts percolated through his brain. Tsukasa glowered down at Tsukushi with frosted eyes; a look that seemed to drop the ambient temperature by several degrees through its sheer frigidity. Tsukushi abruptly realized she made have made a tactical error and found herself taking a step back, trying not to look as if she were inching away. But even in her fear, she was too stubborn to apologize. Her life sucked, and he was part pf the cause. She wasn't going to forgive that easily.

Tsukasa. . .Tsukasa did not know what he intended to do when he felt the old violence surge up. The need to hurt something before he was hurt again. He wanted to beat Tsukushi bloody for the feelings she'd woken up. The worry that she might've been late for being dead (just like Shigeru, an unwanted voice in the back of his mind whispered). The contrition he felt at hearing the few grains of truth in her words about the high-handedness of his behavior (just like Tsubaki had used to be able to inspire with her lectures and their violent punctuations,). Oh he did not want to feel those things, any more than he enjoyed the resentment at being compared to Junpei. And perhaps that was what saved him, in the end, from the violence his hands itched to mete out; the sudden fear in Tsukushi's eyes. The way she froze like a trapped animal with no place to flee and no recourse for aid, despite the very public place she was in. The way she seemed to recognize the coldness in his eyes, and the threat in his posture as something familiar. In an instant it clicked for him. He may be a violence-prone asshole, but he wasn't the sort to go around intimidating women. He never wanted to be the sort of man to inspire the look that Tsukushi wore now. He'd always thought he was a better person than that.

With an effort, Tsukasa backed off, turning away to hide the frozen planes of his face. As much to avoid the accusations in Tsukushi's eyes, as to spare anyone his expression.

"We're leaving now." He announced coldly. Trying to mask his roiled emotions in frost.

"We?" Finally one of the waitresses had the presence of mind to intervene. "Tsukushi isn't going anywhere she doesn't want to go. I'm tempted to call the police, myself."

"It's OK." Tsukushi attempted to pull herself together. "I'm not going anywhere with him."

"Yes you are." Tsukasa growled obstinately, "And I'll tell you why." For in that instant, he'd had an inspiration. Only a small epiphany, really, but a useful one nonetheless. Tsukushi had a problem with Junpei,. He had a problem with Junpei. He would take his anger out on him instead. And these other unwanted feelings? They would just have to wait. Tsukushi -- Dr Makino -- equated him with Jun. Well, that would not do, He would show her that they were nowhere near the same. She had to understand them better, understand him better-- otherwise what was the point of all of this? But to do that, he first had to understand the nature of her quarrel with Jun, and where that hunted look had come from. "It's like this, doc. I overheard some of your conversation with Mary, there. You've got a stick up your ass about Junpei. What it is, I don't know. Though it sounds to me like he won't leave you alone. Well, he won't leave us alone either. Regardless of what you may think of me, that gives us common cause. If you come with me now, I guarantee you, that within 24 hours, Jun will be as spitting mad as you were two seconds ago."

It was tempting. Much as she hated Tsukasa right now. Tsukushi did hate Jun more. How could she not? Warily, she appraised Tsukasa and attempted to tamp down her residual fear and anger. "How?" She asked at last. Curious despite herself, despite her unwillingness to be a part of anything that involved Tsukasa Doumyouji.

"We go shopping." Tsukasa turned back to grace her with a grin that was downright malicious.

Tsukushi's response was a blank look, as her brain refused to sink to the level of animal cunning that sometimes ruled Tsukasa. For, if he'd been using logic, rather than instinct, his thoughts would have gone like this: When, months ago, Jun had first seen Tsukushi in the presence of the F3, his response had been to denigrate her, a classic jealous response intended to dissuade potential suitors. Then, when next seen by Tsukushi, he'd ended up with smashed testicles. And no one kicks a man like that unless they feel seriously threatened in only one way. Now, she was fighting with her roommate about him? And when the waitress had mentioned a man looking for her, she'd immediately assumed it was Jun? Plainly he was interested in her. Why, exactly, Tsukasa couldn't bring himself to imaging, (or at least that's what he told himself firmly). And just as plainly, Tsukushi wanted no part of Jun. What better way to rebuke him then to spend quality time in the company of his rivals? Truly, Rui would be more appropriate, but Tsukasa wasn't about to trust him out of the house just yet. Much less for the fun he had in mind. For 'quality time' only counts when it's decidedly unprofessional, and public. A trip to the mall would fit the bill almost perfectly.

The trick, of course, would be in persuading the edgy doctor, that such an adventure fell within the realm of her responsibility to the F4. And Tsukasa thought he knew just the hook to use.

TBC

---next up: semi-comedic interlude! Blatantly riffed from the source material! Look, the chapters are getting longer again! as a side note, DeliHaus is a sad piece of nostalgia, he phenomenon vanished forever in the mists of time. all night diner, surly punk waitresses, bad food. I could totally see Makino in a place like that. as for why she ended up there in this chapter, and what history she has with the place? Well that explanation must wait. . until next time! or the time after that. . .

responses to reviewers:

sakura tenshi. . .: Romance? Well, I've been debating that. some people have requested that I punt the romance for this fic, and some want it put in. I'm ambivalent. On the one hand, it would be so easy to put it in, and it would add a nice dimension, and on the other, the challenge of an HYD fic without romance amuses me, since HYD is nothing but the romance. I mean there are romantic interests of sorts going on in the fic, and I don't count the thing with junpei here, or even the bad-sex-with-akira-chapter, but I keep refusing to develop them, out of my own perversity. I guess we'll just have to see which side of me wins out in the end. In the meantime, I'm glad you like the angst, cause this here is angst-central. Thanks for reading!

Piglet: Is this chapter long enough for you? I hope so. Since it's winter and cold outside, I'll be in front of my computer more (in theory) and hence, should have more chapters, or longer out on a more regular basis (assuming my thesis doesn't start to occupy my every waking hour). So glad you're enjoying it. and I promise, there will be more junpei, the poor boy is just misunderstood. . . yeah right!

Reniefuwa: Hell, I don't have a real life basis for much of my fics either, but why should that stop me, or you? That's what the imagination, and a strong sense of empathy is for! To answer your question, the story in general isn't so much venting for me. It's more of a project. There are occasional bits here and there, pulled from stuff I've been thinking about but really, those occur more frequently in my other fics, than in this one. For example, a lot of the romantic angst in my other fics is a direct result of observing and participation in the soap opera that is my social circle. Where the angst in this fic, is less from personal experience, as from a general sense of frustration with people and the world -- aka, a chemical imbalance in my own teeny brainmeats. But I do plenty of venting at people around me for that matter, so I don't really need fanfic for that. it's just something to do when I don't feel like leaving the apartment, and my compulsive need to finish what I started even when I don't know how to! Hope that answered your question without rambling too too much. --cm-


	39. ch 38 in whic tsukushi is embarrassed

"Wha? . . " Tsukushi was confused. Only seconds before, Tsukasa had looked like he wanted to tear her apart, and now he wanted to go shopping? She wasn't sure if she really wanted to understand the thought processes that could produce such radical mood swings. That much, Tsukasa could plainly read in her wary and skeptical eyes. But he was confident he could sway her. Even if meant being every bit as manipulative as she thought he was.

"I don't care if you like me," a blatant lie, "I don't care if you trust me," a second one, both lies he almost wished were true. "So you don't have to come with me for either of those reasons. You may not even dislike Jun as much as I think. But, if for nothing else, you should accompany me for the following reason. If you spend the day at the mall with me, I won't touch a drop of alcohol for an entire month." And god, that would be hard for him. Even now, he still had trouble sleeping at night without it.

Tsukushi blinked, and searched his face for truth. For reasons why she should go along with him. But, after the night she'd had, her brain wasn't working very well, and she finally gave up on reason. "To hell with it." she muttered, "I'll go along, for now." But if you even so much as think of reneging on your commitment to stop drinking, I'll make you regret the day you were born."

"As If I didn't do that already." Tsukasa grumbled under his breath, then more loudly, "Let's go."

"Are you sure you're ok?" Tsukushi had forgotten that they'd an audience, right up until the waitress behind her spoke.

"No," Tsukushi acknowledged, "but I gotta take the chance." 'cause sometimes you just had to try something different. And with that, she let the glowering form of Tsukasa escort her from the diner into the pouring rain of the day outside.

They made an awkward pair at best, the shrink and her patient, as they arrived at their destination. Not many words had been exchanged on their way there; Tsukasa had glowered and glared at everyone they passed, while Tsukushi had seemed to curl up inside herself, regarding the world with a chilly and incurious eye. Until, finally, Tsukasa could take no more and burst out with,

"So what the hell Was that place?"

"Huh?" Tsukushi came back to herself with a jerk.

"Where we just came from," Tsukasa ground out impatiently. "With that bitch of a waitress."

"Don't call Mary that!" Tsukushi snapped back.

"Why not? She was!"

"Ever consider maybe that's because you were being an ass?"

"And the other customers?"

"What do you care about them?" She was right. He could hardly have cared less, but he wasn't about to back down on his point.

"What are you defending her for?"

"She's a good person." Tsukushi spat. "Don't you go judging people because of what they do for a living." She forbear to mention that, in fact, she herself had once worked, very briefly, as a waitress at Deli Haus, back in medical school, as an attempt to earn some extra money outside of her student loans. After that, it had become her regular haunt when she was on call, a good place to calorie up on her way to work at one ungodly hour of the night or other. She'd slacked off visiting there more recently, when she'd moved in with Yuki. Since then, she'd been more likely to hang out at her roommate's workplace, drinking mediocre coffee and sweets than savoring the loud energy of the diner.

"Like you do to me?" Tsukasa growled back, as he rapidly lost patience with his so called doctor.

"That, Mr. Doumyouji." Tsukushi bristled dangerously, "Is not what criteria I judge you on. And nothing you have yet done or said has made me any likelier to think better of you than I do right now. I've said it before, and I've said it again. I don't like you. I don't want to treat you. I don't think you're making any progress whatsoever with me, and I think you need to find someone else to whose care you will more responsive. Or at least someone who can stand the sight of you."

"Oh yes, I forgot." Tsukasa sneered nastily, "You judged me long ago on the basis that I work with a man you dislike personally. And you've never bothered to change your mind."

"You've never given me reason to!" Tsukushi shouted, "You're still an arrogant, loud, violence-prone, egotistical, self-righteous, manipulative asshole!"

"And you're just a pushy, conceited, mentally unstable, frigid bitch!"

"Then fire me!" she challenged, "Let me go back where I belong!"

"No." He stopped yelling. The finality in that one syllable was audible, made Tsukushi shiver to the tips of her toes. Tsukasa didn't care to discuss it anymore. While Tsukushi trembled with frustration and impotent fury. To ask why not would be to give in to his game. And that satisfaction was one Tsukushi would not allow him. He probably wouldn't have given her a true answer anyway, not the one that went like this: he kept her around because of the one character flaw she didn't list -- that he was a drunk, and despite her dislike of him, or anything else she might say, he was getting better. Maybe only a little bit, and maybe only very slowly, but he was drying out. One hour, one day at a time. There were other reasons as well, but those he wouldn't even admit to himself, much less to her, at this juncture.

Tsukushi might have started yelling again, after she recovered her composure, save for the fact that they'd arrived at the mall. And given just what she vaguely suspected Tsukasa had in mind, it would not do to be making this kind of scene. Little did she suspect however, just how much she was going to hate the way Tsukasa created the image he wanted the two of them to project.

"Never trust a musician. Never trust a musician. Never trust a lying manipulative bastard, Never trust a Man!" was what Tsukushi soon found herself whispering between tightly gritted teeth, as she willed herself not to flinch away from the gentle pressure of Tsukasa's hand on her back. The hand that was currently steering her in a direction she did not want to go. "Why here?" she growled more audibly, while fighting to hold in her volatile temper.

"Because." Tsukasa sneered, "I want to attract attention."

"That's easy." Tsukushi retorted, all set to light into him with another piece of her mind.

"Not that kind! What kind of idiot are you? Do you really need everything spelled out?"

"Well excuse me for not being such a corrupt-minded bastard."

Tsukasa breathed deeply, and fisted his hand against the urge to slap the irritating woman. "Just smile, and go along with it." thinking how much he was already regretting his promise to lay off the booze. Damn, he really could use a drink right now.

"This better be worth it." It was a warning.

"Trust me on this," Tsukasa urged, "You want to piss off Junpei. I can only think of one thing that might make him madder. . ." it was a taunt as much as anything else, and Tsukushi shivered again. It wasn't so much that she wanted him angry. For Jun was dangerous when angry. She wanted him out of her life, and the best she could hope for was that Tsukasa's plan might help drive him away. So, she squared her shoulders, and tried to pretend that every muscle in her body wasn't wire tight, as Tsukasa pushed her into Victoria's Secret. . .

. . . "But I don't need new underwear!"

"Oh come on," he scoffed, "I bet everything you own is white cotton. Wouldn't you rather wear something in silk, or lace?" He held up a fetchingly tiny scrap of nothing.

"This is sexual harassment." Her face turning red, her manner chilling even more.

"I'm your patient, not your employer." Tsukasa returned. He was having fun. It was more entertaining than he'd thought, trying to get a rise out of the diminutive doctor. And so easy, too.

"Excuse me, can I help you with anything?" One of the myriad sales assistants wandered over to offer her assistance.

Almost gleefully, Tsukasa's face lit up, and he replied, "Why yes, she," pushing Tsukushi forward, "Is looking at buying one of these, " dangling a black lace bra from one finger, "And she needs to check the size. I think she's a 34 A, myself, in which case, we were wondering if perhaps she should buy one of these instead for a little extra lift." From his other hand he dangled a red satin push up bra. In fact, if you looked closely, its shade and that of Tsukushi's face were almost a perfect match. Oh yes, Tsukasa was really enjoying himself now. The same could not be said for Tsukushi. The daggers in her eyes promised vengeance, as she let herself be led away by the perky clerk. As if not touching alcohol for a month wasn't going to be punishment enough, Tsukasa mused. May as well enjoy himself while he could, then.

A while later, Tsukushi still red-faced from her fitting session, found herself trying to avoid Tsukasa in the one store she'd never thought she'd ever be forced to spend time with him in. The fitting had been, to her mind, humiliating, as the clerk clucked at her, eventually concluding that Tsukasa's estimate had been spot on, and that yes, she'd probably best stick with a pushup. As if! Even worse was the way she'd chided Tsukushi at her practical, boring, everyday bra, and tried to push a variety of totally excessive frilly things at her. As she stewed in the humiliation, Tsukushi failed to even notice what she was looking at, turning down all the offers of assistance from the clerks around the store and just mindlessly wandering, until she found a quiet corner to just stare blankly at the display while she tried to calm down.

"I never knew you were the Thong type. Never would have guessed." Mr. Doumyouji's taunting voice spoke a few inches behind her ear, and Tsukushi jumped involuntary, the blood immediately rushing back to her face.

"I'm Not!"

"Then why are you looking so intently at them?" Tsukasa reached around her to lift a particularly racy pair off its hook, "I bet you'd look good in these."

"Put those back!" she hissed, "Are we done here yet?"

"What, got no one to show them off for? Is that why you're angry? Poor little doctor." Tsukasa never did know when to quit. And this time Tsukushi couldn't restrain herself from inflicting a resounding slap on Tsukasa's cheek. Screw doctor-patient propriety. If he could cross the line like that, than so could she.

Tsukasa blinked, raised his hand as if to strike back, then slowly lowered it, looking as if the slap had jiggled his brains back into some semblance of sense. Slowly, his brain processed what he'd just said. Ok, maybe he deserved that, but no way was he going to tell the doctor that. He looked down to meet her eyes. Eyes which, while glaring a challenge at him, still somehow managed to reveal how deeply his offhand remark had cut. With a quickly suppressed twinge of guilt, he even remembered what little Akira had spilled about the strange ways she'd acted during their awkward little tryst. Damn, if she was going to be so sensitive about every little thing, the least she could do was say why. She knew why the F4 was fucked up, wasn't it only fair if she returned the favor? But not now. Tsukasa looked quickly around to make sure that no one had caught that little incident. He couldn't apologize. Bt he could do the next best thing, "Ok," he whispered harshly, opting to pretend she hadn't just slapped him, "I think the chick at the register recognized me." Hopefully, she hadn't been staring at him simply because he was the hottest male she'd ever seen. "I noticed her staring at me, and making a call. So, we're going to go buy these things now." Quickly he cut off her protest, "I'm buying, you can pay me back later if you feel you have to. Or trash our purchases," though that would be a shame, "if you feel you must. But now, I am buying. And you're going to hold my arm and walk out of here smiling. Got it?" Tsukushi was still glaring death. But she nodded anyway. Trying to pretend that he wasn't still holding a thong she would never want to be caught dead in.

With a relative minimum of fuss, they managed to get Tsukushi's -- or was it Tsukasa's?-- new acquisitions paid for, despite the way the sales clerk alternated between lustful drooling at Tsukasa and sneering disdain at Tsukushi. "Really," Tsukushi, snapped at the obnoxious chick, as they turned to leave the store, "Don't waste your effort. Between you and me, this man is one fixer-upper not worth the effort."

"Bitch." Tsukasa muttered a barely audible response, as the two of them exited, faking smiles, and pretending not to notice the second-rate paparazzi that attempted to stealthily take their picture.

"He'll be following us all day now." Tsukasa growled irritably, even though it was just what he'd wanted. "Can you try not to act like a deranged lunatic? I don't want to embarrass myself anymore than I have to."

Tsukushi subtly stumbled in front of him, so that, in the act of catching herself she could grind her heel into his instep. "I'll certainly try to remember, in future, just which of us is the psychiatrist, and which the patient." She allowed as she straightened.

One might say, that the rest of the afternoon was much the same as the previous half hour. Only, of course, it wasn't.

For one thing, there was the paparazzi following them, which put a crimp on their behavior. Worse, was the way she had to let Tsukasa touch her, just his hand o n her arm, or over her shoulders, or on her back. But, oh, each time she flinched, as if it hurt her to touch him even this much. And as the day wore on, Tsukasa noticed that Tsukushi had to restrain herself from looking for the photographer every few minutes. The hunted look on her face that she tried to hide. He began to think that he may have made a mistake in deciding to do this thing after all, for it was plain that the doctor just wasn't up for it. More, he began to think that her anger and tenseness was not actually so much because she hated him as much as she said, but that she would be as strained if she were to be as near any man in public, this close, for this long. He was starting to realize that the doctor really didn't trust him. probably didn't trust anyone. And that she was doing this much less for the annoyance it would bring Junpei, and more out of duty for the fact that he'd promised to stop drinking for her to do this thing. She was the kind of doctor who might have problems, but dedication was not one of them. She truly would do almost any thing if she thought it would help her patients.

Tsukasa began to feel vaguely guilty for using her in this way. manipulating her again, when she plainly wasn't comfortable. This line of reasoning led him back to the morning. He didn't think he'd ever seen the doctor comfortable in any surroundings. Had never seen her smile, until this morning. The dingy diner full of greasy food and loud waitresses. What had she been doing there --and not only there, but by all evidence sleeping there as well! When she'd had the whole previous day off? Tsukasa felt like he was this close to grasping the answer to a mystery. Really, he could feel it, n answer on the tip of his tongue. But it wouldn't come. And he was getting frustrated.

No help for it, he finally decided. But to ask. Not that he thought she'd answer if he did as he was naturally inclined and asked her straight out. No, this would require some working up to.

"Rui missed you yesterday." He began.

"Did he now?" Tsukushi was by now too weary to bother rising to the bait.

"Yeah. What is going on with him anyway? Is he fixed yet?"

"You know I can't discuss that with you." Tsukushi sighed.

"Yeah well, I don't know what half of what he says means. Do you?"

"He doesn't mean to be vague." Tsukushi responded absently, her attention captured by the smells wafting through the nearby food court.

"Riiight." Tsukasa was skeptical. "You understand him then?"

"Hardly." Tsukushi snorted, "If I did, then my job would be easy."

"Yet you claim to understand me?" He bridled, recalling earlier arguments.

Slowly, Tsukushi nodded, recognizing the challenge in his tone.

"Like all the shit you claimed earlier?" He was well on his way to a towering rage. Already forgetting why he'd started this particular conversation.

"You really want to know what I think? My professional opinion, as opposed to my personal opinion?"

"Yes." a command or a plea? Who knew?

"Okay then." Tsukushi steeled herself. "After you buy me dinner." She waved at the food court.

"Bah." Tsukasa sneered, "Crap food. I can't eat that shit." A few blocks from the mall was a cute little bistro he'd heard about. And, now that the rain had cleared, it was a surprisingly balmy spring evening. Tsukasa dragged Tsukushi there, and after a few high-handed words with the maitre d', quickly got them a sidewalk table. Dinner began, as might be expected, with a continuation of the awkward silences that had dogged their day.

"Well?" Tsukasa demanded at last, too impatient to wait for the end of the meal.

"Well." Tsukushi sighed, and began to recite, "You've got a fairly classic presentation. Anger management issues, alcohol dependency, both clearly linked to a severe grief-guilt complex. However, at the risk of sounding Freudian, I'd say you also have neuroses relating to childhood trauma: estranged parents, and a lack of a nurturing environment. You don't know how to relate to people, Mr. Doumyouji. Your behavioral patterns point to you having an isolated childhood in which you were spoiled and given your every whim, except the one thing you really needed." Nervously she cleared her throat and tried to sound professional, "Love. . . Though you have so far refused to discuss it with me, I presume that you found that with Shigeru. And the loss only amplified your childhood feelings the more. Couple that with the fact that you feel responsible for her and your sister's death, has made you a very unhappy man. And you take it out on others, and on yourself. Your behavior is as much to punish yourself by driving others away as it is a reaction to your own unhappiness." Tsukushi was proud of herself, she thought she'd managed to avoid bringing up all the things she hated about him in that summary, "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Is it true?" was what Tsukasa demanded instead.

"As much as anything else." Tsukushi shrugged, "Like much of modern medicine, psychiatry isn't really an exact science. We guess, we treat. Most people prescribe vast quantities of medications that we don't fully understand in the hopes that they will do some good. Others like me, prefer to beat sense into our patients."

Or lecture them until they die of boredom. Tsukasa thought, though he did manage to avoid saying it aloud. Almost the longest they'd ever gone without an argument. "But Am I Fixable?" what he really wanted to know, he didn't really care what the diagnosis was, as long as someday he could feel like he had while Shigeru and Tsubaki were alive.

Tsukushi sat back in her chair, and gave Tsukasa a long hard look, feeling the emotional stake he had riding on this. Even Tsukasa was tempted to flinch under her scrutiny. Then, unexpectedly, she smiled. As if she'd just reached a conclusion that she liked.

"Yes. Mr. Doumyouji. You are." For a second, she could forget that she didn't like him. He was a patient. A patient for whom the outcome could be good, not a case she'd forever have to mourn as a failure. Helping others was her life, and it made her happy that here was one who, now that she though about it, could really be helped to become the man he once was. And so, she smiled, but only for a split second.

Because in that second, Tsukasa started to speak. He wanted to believe her, who wouldn't. But his own logic, the conclusions about himself that he'd drawn, seemed to preclude such optimism. Still, the fact that he was willing to open up this much, to someone who made no bones about her dislike of him, surprised him, even as he opened his mouth to begin angrily, "You don't know anything about it, do you? You say that with such confidence. "Yes," but how could you know? The worst possible thing that can happen to anyone. Do you really know what It's like to be empty all your life? Years and years of emptiness. Alone, and not understanding why? With only one other who shared your pain, who understood, but who, themselves, were busy with their own problems when you really needed them? And then to have that void filled, with life, sparkling, and vibrant? Shigeru was all of that. She was energy embodied, full of life, everything I wasn't. You can't possibly have any idea what that's like, you who have never lived, yourself. I was complete. I was happy. The only time in my life that I was. The band, Shigeru, we were all we needed. And then we lost it all. How can you possibly comprehend that? The loss of everything that was good in us. Taken away in one single blow. It left us, me, worse than empty. Because now I know what I'm missing and I can never have it back. You sit there and preach, but how can you possibly understand what We really feel?" It was an accusation.

During Tsukasa's speech, Tsukushi had progressively paled. Her face twisting in some unidentifiable emotion. After all she'd tried to do for them, and this is what he accused her of? Tsukushi felt her pulse speeding, the blood rushing in her ears, and she wanted to tell him, just what she thought of Tsukasa's maudlin self pity. If she were under less stress, if she'd had a better day, a better night, a better week, perhaps she just might have been able to prevent herself from speaking. But she was tired, and frustrated, and fuck it, what did she care anymore, her life was hell, This arrogant asshole across from her could damned well hear a piece of her mind, and so she drew a deep breath, to begin very quietly. "I couldn't possibly understand, Mr. Doumyouji? You say that with such confidence. But what do you know of the worst possible thing? You found love, you had happiness. It was real. Better to have it taken from you while it was good and pure than to know the worst possible thing. And let me tell you just what that is, you self-righteous ass. It's to have everything, friends, loving family, a cheerful outlook. It's to find love, and to be betrayed by it. Just to lose that is Nothing. Nothing compared to having your friends turned against you, your hope taken away. Nothing compared to having the one you love and trust betray you utterly, to turn into the enemy of all you hold dear. Better to have died, then that. Until you have experienced such absolute betrayal as that, then you have no right to tell me that I don't understand what it's like to hurt!" She hissed the last few words, desperately trying to prevent herself from bursting into tears, and turned from the table, as if preparing to leave.

Tsukasa stared at her, stricken by the passion in her words, by the obvious pain. And that was when it all clicked. Deep in his mind, connections were finally beginning to snap together. The question that had been hovering just out of conscious mind swam up into the light. And he wondered how he could have been so stupid. Wondered how Akira, with his sensitivity and understanding could have missed it. Suspected, that Rui might already have figured things out, even without a figurative kick in the pants such as he had just received.

Tsukasa let out his breath with an, "Oof," as if he'd been kicked.

"When did it happen?" His voice was low, intense, dangerous. Even his eyes glittered with a menace, though it wasn't directed at Tsukushi.

"What?" Tsukushi risked one look at his eyes, and knew he knew. Her shame, the one thing she'd spent years running from, while it warped her life, destroyed her spirit, and made a mockery of her efforts to help others. Still, she had some pride left, and no desire to admit how weak she'd been. She wouldn't say anything more until she had no choice.

She had no choice now. Not before that commandingly intense stare that bored right through her, No longer simply cold and angry and otherwise empty, as it had been the first night they meant, but full, now, with everything.

"When." Tsukasa spoke slowly and deliberately through clenched teeth, "Did Junpei rape you?"

Tsukushi thought she'd braced herself against the question. She was wrong. Mr. Tsukasa Doumyouji was probably the one person she'd never have thought to have guessed. Though, it was her own fault for losing control of her tongue, she supposed. Tsukushi shivered, and wrapped her arms about herself as if trying to hold herself together. She refused to meet Tsukasa's eyes, and he knew he was right. A surge of fury tore through him, not directed at the woman across from him, but rather at the person who could do such a thing. Fleetingly, he even wondered what she had been like before. How many years had her spirit been curdling so, all alone? No wonder she saw him as a threat, no wonder she flinched at every touch. When everyone turns on you, all you have is yourself. At least, Tsukasa reflected, the F4 had always had each other, or at least, the F3, had. And with a flash of insight, he understood why she had such an effect on Rui, on them all. She wasn't an interloper after all, an outsider brought in to help them but who could never truly relate, No, whether she knew it or not, Tsukushi belonged with the F4. No wonder finding Rui hadn't made them whole. They had needed more to be truly complete. They needed Dr. Tsukushi Makino. For, the fact was, she was one of them. One of the walking wounded. And the truth was, she needed them as much as they needed her.

TBC.

--Not real happy with the way this ch turned out. But such is life. It got where it was supposed to go.---


	40. ch 39 in which Tsukasa uses reason

. . .This chapter has been reloaded as of 4-7-05. i noticed i was getting lotsof commentsabout my grammar, so i looked, and lo, had done a vanishment of my punctuation on this chapter. It's the only one i checked, so if there are other chapters where the exclamation points, etc, are mysteriously absent, please to let me know (email curdled(dot)milk(at)gmail(dot)com. (replacing of course (dot) and(at) with appropriate punctuation). But really spelling, the more tired i get the worse it is, and thatst he way it's going to be. but i like punctuation a little too much to omit quite that much of it. don't ask me where it all vanished to, hopefully it'll stay put this time. . . .

The silence between them stretched long seconds; Tsukasa eyeing Tsukushi intently, and she refusing to meet his gaze.

"Damnit Woman!" Tsukasa could contain his outburst no longer. "What kind of doctor are you if you can't even heal yourself? I mean, look at you! All worked up over a bastard better left forgotten!"

His ploy worked. Tsukushi jerked out of her reverie as if stung by a particularly noxious insect. "And what the hell would you know about it, you bastard? My life is none of your goddamned business!"

"You brought it up!" he accused, "And that alone makes it my business!"

"Well fuck you, Mr. Doumyouji. If you're going to sit there and insult me and the way I live my life, then I think it's time I left." To prove it, Tsukushi climbed to her feet, and reached for her jacket. In the light from the café window, Tsukasa could see just how pale her drawn features were, the tightly clenched jaw, and the tense posture bespeaking just how much emotion she was vainly trying to hold in.

"To Hell it is!" He roared, disregarding the strange looks of other patrons. "If you're leaving, then I'm coming with you. We have unfinished business, you and I."

"Oh really?" Tsukushi fairly snarled, shrugging on her jacket and heading for the door.

"Yes, really!" Without looking, Tsukasa slapped down some money on the table to pay their bill and grabbed Tsukushi's arm, refusing to let her get away.

"Let go of me!" She hissed furiously, and with more than a touch of reflexive fear.

"No." Tsukasa growled back, "Not until we've had a little chat."

"We have nothing to discuss." Ineffectually she tried to shake off his iron grip.

"Oh yes we do." In the dim street lights, Tsukasa's eyes glittered dangerously, but he didn't notice. He didn't even notice, or think that his demeanor was not exactly helping matters with the skittish doctor any, "I've been accused of many things in my life, doc. I've pissed off my share of people, but never, before you, has Anyone, ever thought so low of me as to rate me on par with, or worse, than a rapist." As Tsukushi had done, just that morning when comparing her hate for him with that which she bore for Junpei. "Is that really what you think? That all men are the same? That we all are out to force our will upon you? . . .Or," he paused as a more chilling thought struck him, "Is it just me that you think so ill of?"

"Let me go!" Tsukushi was truly panicking now, at the angry menace in his voice and the way his hand wrapped so immovably around her arm. But still, Tsukasa was too caught up in his own spurt of anger to notice the signs, that is, until Tsukushi started crying. She had, until then, briefly considered biting him, or scratching or kicking to get free, but seriously, she was tired of fighting. It was easier to just go limp and sob, and hope that the world, and the truly shitty day she was having, would just go away.

"Shit." Tsukasa mumbled lowly, his eyes wide in shock. This was Tsukushi Makino, his stubborn bitch of a doctor. She wasn't supposed to cry. She wasn't supposed to give up! He didn't know how to cope with a crying woman, much less one as volatile as this, much less one he'd set to crying in the first place. "Ah. . . Stop that! " He urged desperately, releasing her arm to grab her by both shoulders instead. "Damnit. Where's Akira when I need him? He knows how to handle this kind of shit. Damnit, woman, will you stop crying! I'm not going to hurt you! Just stop it!" Tsukasa was truly flummoxed. Did Tsukushi really think he was the same kind of bastard as Junpei? He was scheming, sure, but only in a good cause. Could he rape a girl? Tsukasa didn't like to think so. He knew he was violent and impulsive. But he'd like to think that even in his worst rages he was above that. Did the doctor she was a psychiatrist after all know something about him that he didn't know himself? No! Tsukasa vowed, it couldn't be true. Dr. Makino was just scared. As scared as he, or any of the rest of the F4, of something that might break down the walls she'd built around herself.

Brilliant deduction that. Now if only he could get her to stop crying. Hesitantly, when he noticed that Tsukushi hadn't moved to run away again, Tsukasa brought his hand down from her shoulder to rub in gentle circles on her back. He decided that he was profoundly uncomfortable with the role of comforter. Shigeru had never cried like this. She'd been fearless never had reason to. But still, there was something in the way Tsukushi seemed to relax a little under his cautious touch that spurred Tsukasa on, reminding him of his earlier thoughts, that Tsukushi was one of the F4, that she belonged with them. That though, like Rui, she might deny it and run, she couldn't hide the truth. Together they all would make each other whole. With this thought, Tsukasa was emboldened to step closer to her motionless form. And when she tensed, but didn't bolt, Tsukasa pulled her into a cautious embrace, standing there in the dark street, until she forgot her rage, forgot her fear and clutched onto him like a lifeline to better days. And at last the tears ceased.

Of course, then the moment turned awkward, Tsukushi straining to escape the suddenly claustrophobic boundary of Tsukasa's arms. He startled out of his silent reverie by the motion. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Home." The terse and embarrassed reply, as she fought to rub out the impression of tearstreaks on her face.

"Answer my question first." Tsukasa pled, quietly this time. Certain she knew just which question he meant. The question do you really think I'm like Junpei? He was dead serious. He wanted to know. Had to know. Had to get inside that twisted little head of hers. Understand the way she saw the world saw him for better or for worse.

Did she really? Did she really hate him that much? Could she hate him that much? Tsukushi didn't know. He was insufferable, that much was true. Arrogant, domineering, violent, manipulative,. . .but also painfully sensitive to perceived slights, caring, honest. . . . And that, Tsukushi decided with a sigh, as she turned to look at Tsukasa, really Look at him, was the key. She disliked him for his attitude and the power plays he'd attempted on her life. But, unlike Junpei, he was Honest, and his scheming was for more than purely personal gain. She couldn't hate a man who would go to so much effort of scheming to save a life, or lives, that others had shrugged off as worthless, and too far gone to be saved. Still, her mouth had gone on and answered before the rest of her brain could catch up,

"Yes." but then, a blink, the realization that she didn't mean it, "No!. . .I don't . . . No." a heavy sigh, the mumbled admission, "No. I don't hate you that much." She couldn't bring herself to say she didn't hate him at all, because sometimes, she damn well did. Maybe not at this instant. But sometimes, certainly. Someone so forceful was easy to hate.

Tsukasa, for his part, let out an inaudible sigh of relief. "Good, then let's go home."

Tsukushi shot a glance over at him. What? He was just going to let it drop like that? She wasn't sure if she should be shocked or relieved. He wasn't going to push for more information? Taunt her like he had been doing? Maybe he'd squirrel the information away for some future blackmail scheme. Tsukushi shuddered. She wondered if such information about her could ruin her career. She didn't think so, but you never knew. Not like at the rate she was going she was going to have such a great career after all. "Umm. Right." She steeled herself, "I'll be in tomorrow at the normal time."

"What? No. Stupid, that's not what I meant." He'd thought it was obvious. Home was where the F4 were. Not whatever dull apartment she lived in.

"I'm not going back with you."

"And when the tabloids come out tomorrow?"

Tsukushi shivered. Shit. She'd forgotten. "They won't know who I am."

"How long do you think it will take for them to dig that up, and then find where you live? You want to be besieged by that?"

"This is your fault." She growled, angrily, before an even more unhappy thought grabbed her.

"You agreed to it," he shot back, scowling now.

"I. . . shit!" Tsukushi paused as if hit by lightening, "Oh fuck. Bloody hell. What was I thinking?" she moaned suddenly.

"What?" Tsukasa demanded roughly, "It's kinda late to be having second thoughts now, you know."

". . .You're right." Tsukushi pulled her face up, the determined set of her features only slightly managing to mask the excessive pallor that marked her face. "Fine. I'll come back to your house. But only this one night."

Tsukasa looked at her suspiciously, dubious that the little doctor could have really given in so easily. She was still hiding something, he was sure, but maybe it'd be best to pry it out of her at a later date. Or else, have Akira give it a go. All this argument was giving him a headache. "Good." He settled on finally, the gruffness of his voice serving to cover up the depth of his emotions. "Rui will be glad to see you." Surreptitiously, he checked his watch, and not so subtly, winced, "Shit. I'm late for practice. Soujiro's gonna be pissed." As if he wasn't already angry enough at Tsukasa, over yesterday's tiff. "Come on, then. We need to haul ass to get back in time."

Tsukushi blinked at the change in his tone, but for the most part, remained so wrapped up in her private thoughts, that she allowed herself to be led off without much more of a protest.

A while later, the duo arrived back at chez F4, Tsukasa almost bursting through the door in his haste to not miss any more of the evening's jam session. Tsukushi had occasionally heard musical-ish noises wafting up from the basement during her normal daily rounds, but she, herself had never previously ventured down into the group's true sanctum. Thus, it was with a twinge of trepidation that Tsukushi followed Tsukasa down the stairs and into the noisy chamber. Soujiro was pounding at the drums as if he could beat the life right out of them, while by Akira's grimace of concentration, you could tell he was doing everything in his power not to snap his guitar strings, while Rui, played bass with a more-than normally detached apathy. By the sound of it, things were not going well. Fortunately, all playing ceased the instant Tsukasa opened the door.

"Where the hell have you been, asshole?" Soujiro was the first to explode. "All day, not a single call, nothing. And you're late for practice." It was plain that he hadn't noticed Tsukushi, yet, skulking in behind Tsukasa's bulk as she was.

"With her." Tsukasa grunted, stepping fully inside the room that the others might see the small woman.

"Oh." Soujiro scowled, but let the rant he was about to spew subside. Rui's veiled eyes flashed in relief, before he bent his head down to hide the unaccustomed display of emotion.

"Well, Where have you been all day?" Akira asked impatiently, when no further explanation was forthcoming.

"Shopping." Surprisingly, it was Tsukushi who spoke up.

"Shopping?" Akira's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Yeah." Tsukasa shrugged, an elaborately casual gesture, "It's some trendy new therapy. We thought I should give it a try." He glanced briefly at Tsukushi, as if to reassure her, that for now, he wouldn't say anything about her past with Junpei, or to warn her, that while he'd let the matter rest for now, it wouldn't be allowed to stay buried forever. "OK then, Sorry I'm late. There was a bit of traffic." He pushed Tsukushi towards a dilapidated couch in the corner of the room, and went to riffle through his pages of notes.

The other three band members looked at each other. Were they supposed to ignore Dr. Makino? And what was she doing here anyway? It was long past any hour that she'd normally be found here, and as she'd made so plain so many times in the past, she hated being here a second longer than usual. However, Tsukasa had That Look in his eyes, the look that discouraged all questions, so no one quite wanted to push the matter. Except Rui, who couldn't be bothered to care about Tsukasa's moods.

"You staying, doc?" The only one to address her directly, instead of Tsukasa. Still, it was Tsukasa who answered firmly,

"Yes."

For her part, Tsukushi just shrugged, lips pressed firmly in a grim line, plainly not interested in explaining what was going on.

"Well ok then." Soujiro summed up, the look he shot Tsukasa promising that there would be much talk later, you bet. He hated it when outsiders sat in on their practice session, before the sound was perfect. It ruined the vibe. Made it hard to think.

He willed himself to ignore the intruding presence and focus on the angry rustlings Tsukasa was making with his sheaf of notes. However, he needn't have worried. Tsukushi was surprisingly unobtrusive as she curled up on the sagging, endlessly comfortable couch, and closed her eyes to review her own problems, even as the rising tide of music filling the air threatened to sweep her away. In fact, once the jam session began in earnest, it was only Rui who had the detachment to shoot frequent worried glances at his doctor. (But only when he thought no one else was looking, of course.)

With Tsukasa back, the practice began to go much more smoothly. It got off to a rocky start of course; Tsukasa irritably shouting corrections to everyone else's playing styles, and cursing under his breath when he heard a misplayed note, or a melody that needed to be completely rewritten. It was clear that the group was working on an entire new set of songs, all of which seemed to have a great number of bugs to be worked out. Tsukasa was an obsessive lyricist, jotting down notes to himself, even as he belted out hoarse lines. He'd stop in the middle of a piece to yell out new chords for Akira to try, or ask Soujiro for input on the counterpoint. Through it all, Rui wore the mask of a zombie, though he played with meticulous skill and obeyed Tsukasa's alterations with no visible hesitation. It was only when he glanced at Tsukushi, that one could almost feel the intensity of his playing increase,

Eventually, a sound began to come together for the tune they were working on. Variation and repetition serving to optimize the melody. It was an almost desperately energetic piece, not quite frenzied in pace, but hovering just on that edge. The tempo jagged, and occasionally jarring, yet somehow seeming to resonate with the heart perhaps more with the heartbeat of someone desperately running, with adrenaline fueling a pounding pace, than with a calm steady pulse, but resonating nevertheless. The melody slammed against the soundproofed walls and rebounded, like a trapped animal trying to break free of its cagea ferocious, sleek, and utterly beautiful but untamed thing, longing for freedom. And then, it'd dip suddenly, become quiet and still, a delicate contrast, a fluttering thready pulse, or the shiver of hummingbird wings against the still air. Rising. Soaring, deepening and accelerating to a crashing crescendo of sound. Through it all, Tsukasa's voice guiding, reverberating with the instrumentals, weaving in and out in point and counterpoint, while somehow retaining its unique roughness; an almost velvety anguish. Or at least, Tsukushi supposed that was how it was supposed to sound. It was still very much a work in progress. But even she, musically disinclined as she was, could picture how it would all come together someday, the way it would shamelessly overwhelm one's emotions in a crashing wave of catharsis. She could feel it working its spell on her; the tightening in her chest easing as she let the surging noise crash through her body, dissolving and washing out her own pain into the sea of sound.

Eventually, despite the high volume in the small room, or perhaps because of it. Tsukushi felt herself slipping away into sleep. It had been a very long day after all. And the couch was so comfy. With the music standing in for her unhappiness, she no longer need feel it so intensely. Better to drift, safe and unnoticed, awareness evaporating into the soothing white noise of sleep. . .

And when Tsukasa finally allowed his aching throat to be silenced, and the band to release their instruments from aching hands, It was Rui who was the first to straighten up, stumbling over to peer worriedly at the doctor's tightly curled form on the couch, while Soujiro and Akira wearily moved to confront Tsukasa about what had really occurred that day.

TBC

mm.. filler chapter strikes again. I don't know why this took so long to get out. Guess I'm losing my attention span again. doh! And once again, for thems that's still asking. No. this fic is not based on my own life in any way shape or form. I'm not even in psych! And my own (mainly nonexistent) lovelife seems to consist more of being hit on by delusional married men and other involved exes rather than being harassed by violent bastards. All of which is more info than I'm sure you needed to knowcm


	41. ch 40 in which it is bedtime

Oi, this update is very late and spectacularly crappy. Here, in order, are my lame-ass excuses for both the timing and quality: hosed at work, on vacation, hosed at work, sick, hungover, computer dead (dead as the pope, one might say), and the most important reason of all – Umm.. I'm writing my thesis right now. It doesn't exactly put me in the mood to write More at the end of the day. Especially at the end of days such as I've had recently that ended up with me calling my local computer geek up in tear pleading with him to make my computer go just long enough to extract my latest version of thesis from the hardrive so I don't have to redo days worth of work. Thank god he has no life on Saturday night either. But yeah. The thesis is also cause of shitty quality. Of this chapter, massivebrainfry all 'round. Oh well….

"So?" Soujiro glared at Tsukasa, "What gives?" meaning, what was up with the doctor crashed out on their couch; what was up with Tsukasa's day-long disappearance, and the doctor's disheveled appearance.

"Problems with Junpei." Tsukasa replied shortly. "And she's sleeping here, because. . . well, you'll see in the morning."

"What did you do?" Akira was instantly on the alert for trouble.

"I told you. We went shopping." Tsukasa glared defiantly, as if that could deter his friends from their questioning.

"Shopping?" Soujiro was still skeptical.

"Just shopping." Tsukasa averred flatly, thought the faint flush in his cheeks gave away the lie. "The bags are upstairs."

"Whatever." Soujiro was tired, and decided to let the matter rest, for now. "So where's She sleeping? Or were you planning on leaving her on the couch?"

"Why can't she use your room? You never sleep there anyway."

"Uh-uh." Soujiro shook his head. "My room is Mine." He had a strict rule against girls in his personal space. Taking them to hotels or going to their homes, that was fine. But no female was gong to use his bed.

"The hell! You never use your own room."

"Well, he is tonight." Akira spoke up, "I'm tired of him drooling on me." While on one level, Akira had been happy that recently Soujiro had stopped going out nights, it was somewhat annoying that Soujiro still refused to sleep alone when he was at home. "Isn't it your turn for Soujiro duty?" he stared pointedly at Tsukasa.

"But I can't sleep with his snoring!" Tsukasa groused.

"Yeah, and you hog the bed." Soujiro snorted. Which was pure slander, as far as Tsukasa was concerned. It only looked like he hogged the bed, as Soujiro always seemed to end up sprawled across the chest of whomever he was sleeping with, instead of claiming his fair share of the bed.

"Will you two stop it." Akira was getting tired of this nonsense, "Tsukasa. It's your turn. Soujiro, you're sleeping with him tonight. I'll take your room, and Tsukushi can have mine. How's that?"

"You sure you're not going to sneak back in to your bed in the middle of the night?" Soujiro asked with raised eyebrows.

"Dude, it already Is the middle of the night." Akira protested.

"Oh yeah. Right then."

Well, that much was easy to settle at least. Tsukasa glanced over at the diminutive doctor lying curled on the couch, and at the way Rui impassively stared down at her, as if trying to read something deep in the shadows of her sleeping face. He scowled, enough was enough. He was going to have to have a talk with Rui himself. That attitude of his was just going to have to change. But first things first. "You gonna stand there all night, or are you going to wake her up so she can go to sleep?"

"I tried." Rui shrugged, "She sleeps like the dead."

"You must've worn her out some good today." Soujiro interrupted with a lewd snort.

"Soujiro. . ." It was a warning growl.

"All right, geez. It was just a joke." The dark haired boy protested, even as he edged out of the way of Tsukasa's fists. The man tended to get violent when he as tired. Not that Tsukasa was ever Not violent, but still.

Tsukasa fought the sudden irrational urge to smack Soujiro around some, and instead busied his hands (and the rest of himself, at that), with picking up the limp bundle that was the doctor. "What?" he snapped at the sharp frown that flashed across Rui's face at this untoward action, "If she's not going to wake up, someone's got to carry her upstairs." And he didn't think Rui had been going to do so, had he? For her part, Tsukushi didn't even notice the sudden change in position. She was Just that out of it. Even the jolting motions as Tsukasa climbed the stairs failed to shake her from her slumber. Fortunately, she had kicked her shoes off before curling up on the couch to listen to the band practice, so all Tsukasa had to do was put her down on Akira's bed, and pull the sheets up. He lingered a brief moment, before turning out the light, just looking at her, their own private, difficult doctor. Their own little headcase. In many ways, things had been simpler before she came into their lives. Simpler, but not necessarily better. The absence of options, the absence of hope, that is simple. Now, learning to live again, and enjoy that living, that was difficult. But if he was willing to try it. . . If they all were. . . Then Shouldn't Tsukushi, too? Could she learn to live again, just like the rest of them?

Tsukasa shook his head and turned out the light. Such philosophical nonsense just wasn't his strong suit, any more than communication skills were. Noises down the hallway indicated that Akira was occupying the bathroom, and the light on in his own room meant that Soujiro was getting ready for bed. . . so, Tsukasa decided to tackle Rui, before trying to find his own rest.

Mind thus made up, Tsukasa didn't bother to knock as he entered Rui's room. He had, sort of expected Rui to be in bed, or at least pretending to sleep, as was his usual style when he didn't want to be bothered, but instead, Rui surprised him by being seated on the low shelf in front of the window, staring out into the night at the surrounding houses.

"Rui." He spoke quietly to get his friend's attention.

Of course, greetings never did do much for Rui; he merely glanced up, nodded inscrutably and went back to staring out the window. That was enough of an invitation for Tsukasa, he came the rest of the way into the room, and shut the door. Even then, Rui pretended to unresponsiveness.

"I'm not blind you know." Tsukasa began, only to be cut of by Rui's quiet voice.

"If you've come to repeat Soujiro's lecture, you can just stop right there. I've heard it already." A preemptive speech that.

"What?" Tsukasa scowled, "The hell are you talking about?"

In reply, Rui simply turned back to regard Tsukasa with a level gaze.

"You know I hate it when you do that." Tsukasa complained, "I've always hated it. Even before you ran off and left us. I'm not a mind reader. I came here to talk to you about Dr. Makino."

"Like I said. . ." Yes, there was definitely a hint of warning in Rui's tone.

"You," Tsukasa began, as Rui's attitude really began to piss him off, "Are not helping things around here. I've seen the way you were looking at her tonight, and I remember. I remember the way you were this morning, And things I've heard from Soujiro and Akira. And It clicked. So, what I want to know is, how long have you known?" he was trying to keep his voice down, trying to keep this a somewhat private conversation in a house of thin walls, butt still there was no denying the intensity of his tone.

Rui looked long at hard at Tsukasa, trying to decide if he should be surprised by Tsukasa's sudden burst of intuition, relieved that Tsukasa had yet to start lecturing him like Soujiro about his inappropriate fixation on Tsukushi, or angry that Tsukasa was, apparently, working up to taking his anger out on him. Briefly, it occurred to him to feign ignorance, but it just wasn't worth the effort. Instead, he reflected musingly, letting his eyes unfocus as if seeing something far away,

"You know, I never thought it would be you who would figure it out first. Akira was the logical choice. But, while he has common sense, he lacks brains. She should never have slept with him. You'd think that little adventure would have clued him in better, wouldn't you have. But no." Even Tsukasa could hear a bitter note in that, "But it's not my life. Why should I interfere?" With an effort, he refocused on Tsukasa, "I've always known."

"What!" The disbelief was plain, "How!" and at increasingly loud volume, "And why the fuck didn't you tell us!" Like Tsukushi's personal problems were really supposed to be any of her patient's business. That's not how the Doctor-Patient relationship was supposed to work. But of course, the F4, and especially Tsukasa, had never seen things quite like that.

Rui blinked at Tsukasa's outburst, but remained unruffled as he replied, "You forget. I lived on the streets. I was a junkie. I saw, I lived, I knew, some of the worst that life on the streets can offer. You learn fast out there, to recognize the signs. You learn quickly too, to mind your own business. Besides, why should I have cared? Other people's problems are not my concern."

"Selfish bastard!" Tsukasa cursed him.

Rui shrugged, "I had my own death to die. Besides, Tsukasa, you also forget," and here, the glittering intensity in his own dark eyes almost made Tsukasa wish to shy away, "I lived on the streets. I sold my own self to pay for my fix. And worse. I've been there. I've done that." He clammed up abruptly, not wishing to be reminded perhaps, of the degradations he'd endured as he tried to fight his way to the bottom, as he tried to erase his life in the mire of the streets, and the numbing fog of drug-induced oblivion.

Tsukasa stared at the skinny man before him, the man he thought of as a friend, suddenly become a stranger again. A stranger touched by a fate more terrible than he'd knownor had even allowed himself to suspect. How had he thought Rui'd survived? He hadn't. How had he thought Rui could possibly have held his own in the beginning? A starving pretty boyan easy target for all, until he acquired some street-smarts. It wasn't something Tsukasa had any experience with. So how could he have known? Even so, Tsukasa felt a sudden surge of guilt, for not having been there for his friend, for not having found him sooner, for all the ways in which he felt he'd failed him. That still didn't change the fact, that of them all, Rui was the only one who'd intuitively known about Tsukushi's past, and he hadn't said anything. Hadn't done anything . . . Until recently when the first cracks in his façade had begun to appear. "But you Like her." He protested again. It was obvious to anyone, right, "You should've said something!"

At this Rui really did laugh. It was Not a happy sound. "Don't let Akira or worse, Soujiro hear you say that."

"What?" Tsukasa was confused. His world-view was Not one which jibed well the standard theory of medical ethics. He didn't really care about maintenance of a professional relationship. People were people, right? And you tried to do right by them. You said what you thought, and did what you meant. Holding back was not an option. (Admittedly, this attitude got him into trouble when he got angry and violent at the stupid people around him, but hey, you can't have everything.) It had only been within the last hour or so, as he'd surreptitiously watched Rui watching Tsukushi as they practiced down in the basement, that he'd realized, what Soujiro had noticed far sooner – that Rui seemed to have a bit of a fixation on their doctor But Tsukasa was not Soujiro, and this realization didn't bother him as much as the idea that Rui had known about Tsukushi's traumatic past and never said or done anything about it. But suddenly a lot of Rui's recent behavior and some of the tense conversations they'd had made a whole lot more sense now. So then, to Tsukasa the logical thing to have done, if he were Rui, would have been just what he himself had done this evening; that is you ask, and you pry, and you pound down the walls that divide you until you find communication and truth. That's what you did if you cared about someone. Even if you only cared a little bit.

But Rui knew better. He didn't pry. Didn't like people prying into his business. Except Tsukushi of course. She could get away with liberties no other shrink of his ever had. And he knew, even before Soujiro told him off, that he couldn't do anything about his developing doctor-fixation. Hell. He hadn't wanted to. He'd wanted it to wither and die, to vanish and free him to go back to dwelling on Shizuka who had been infinitely more perfect and desirable than Dr. Makino in every way. Right? Right. So when Tsukasa asked him why he wasn't doing anything, like it was he most natural thing in the world, he was understandably stunned.

"You're making me tired." Rui hid his tumultuous thoughts behind a cold face. Unwilling to continue the conversation until he'd sorted out his own mind better.

"We'll talk more tomorrow." Somehow Tsukasa made it sound like a threat, "And Rui, you know. She's one of us. In every way that counts. So don't take to long to make up your mind, will you? One of us deserves better."

Rui was left blinking at the door as Tsukasa exited, wondering what to make of that cryptic statement. A threat? Coming from Tsukasa, it could very well be. But Now? Rui wondered briefly if he should have seen it coming. Wearily, he turned back to stare out the window at the darkened houses, remembering a time when it all seemed so much simpler, when the only decision to make was where to sleep at night, or where to score his next hit. Before She made it all complicated again.

TBC


	42. ch 41 in which morning arrives

Tsukushi awoke feeling totally gross. That was the first thing she noticed: the bad taste in her mouth alerting her to just how long it had been since last she actually brushed her teeth. And the itchy greasiness of her scalp told her unequivocally that she badly needed a shower. Yuck. That was her second impression as she jolted to consciousness. But the next fact that slammed into her waking brain was that she wasn't in her own bed. OK. Tsukushi was used to snapping alert quickly. Years of being on call had honed that skill. If she wasn't at home, where could she be? The icky way she felt implied a long shift at the hospital. . . but this bed was far too comfortable, and the room too sunny to be a call room. And, come to think of it, it had been a long time since she'd been at the hospital like a normal resident. Oh. That's when it hit her. Yesterday; what had happened, and where she had to be.

"Shit." Resignedly, Tsukushi opened her eyes to face the world. Well, at least they hadn't left her on the couch downstairs. Then she probably would've awoken with agonizing back pain as well as the gross feeling of being part of the great unwashed masses. She liked a firm mattress, you better believe it. Even more of a relief, she was alone in the room. Not that she would have suspected anything otherwise might have been the case. But you never knew. Hmm. . . a warm comfortable bed, a sunny room. . . It was so tempting just to go back to sleep. But that was not Tsukushi's nature. No, it was morning. That meant she had to get up and do. . .Something. Especially when she thought of just how bad today was likely to be. And the consequences of yesterday. Great. Now a sinking feeling in her stomach appeared to keep company with the bad taste in her mouth. Nope, she sure as hell wasn't going back to sleep now. Fine then. Tsukushi threw off the sheets and gingerly tested the floor temperature with her bare toes. Not too bad. She tiptoed out into the hallway and listened carefully. The echoing silences of the house, and the vague snores drifting down the hall from the direction of Tsukasa's room implied that the F4 were all still asleep. Perfect. That meant she could shower before any of them woke up.

But, "Ugh." Tsukushi scowled to herself. She hadn't gone home yesterday, or the day before. Even if she showered, her clothes desperately needed a wash. It'd be pointless to shower if she was just going to put them back on, especially her underwear. . . Which, of course, is when she remembered the little shopping expedition yesterday. "Oh bloody hell." Tsukushi felt the urge to bury her head in her hands and scream at the way life taunted her. While she and Tsukasa had wandered around the mall for hours, they'd gone into a few more shops, and she'd even made some purchases (Arguing with Tsukasa – Mr. Doumyouji, damnit) about each one (Him, "You're buying that? What, you like looking like an old maid? Goddamn, woman, you're 26 years old, you don't need to dress like you're 90. This is much more flattering. And you need all the help you can get." Her, "I'm not spending twice as much for something that's going to make me look unprofessional." Him, "Like that piece of shit makes you look like doctor? Don't make me laugh."). Of course, much to her dismay, the arguments had tended to end up with her throwing up her hands in disgust, and leaving with nothing, or if she actually did buy something, then that ass, Mr. Doumyouji, would insist on buying whatever it was he thought she should have bought in the first place as well. But, Tsukushi almost growled in frustration at the thought, the only clean underwear she had available was that. . . . that godawfully indecent shit Tsukasa had bought at Victoria's Secret. Hell and Damn, and curse that man, she thought, as she moodily crept down the stairs to where she vaguely remembered leaving her shopping bags in the living room the night before.

She had an unpleasant shock, therefore, when she came into the room to find that Her bags, the things she'd bought with her own money, damnit, were missing. She Knew she'd brought them in, she wasn't that out of it. Actually, when the red faded from her vision, she realized, that the bags Tsukasa had bought were missing too—but their contents weren't. The hell? Tsukushi stalked over to the couch to look more closely at the pile. Much to her dismay, there was a note. . .

Last night, while Tsukasa had been carrying Tsukushi up to bed, Akira and Soujiro had lingered briefly to sort through the purchases in the living room. Anything they disapproved of, they 'liberated.' Hey, why not? The doctor could use a little fashion guidance, after all.

The note read, "don't bother thanking us, we took out the trash!" and was signed Akira and Soujiro, 'fashion consultants.' Tsukushi could almost have stormed back upstairs and killed the both of them right then and there, except that she seriously felt really disgusting, and her first priority had to be getting clean. Then, oh yes, then, there would be a reckoning like you wouldn't believe. Her anger only increased, when on perusal, the pile of 'approved' clothing contained exactly one item she'd chosen herself, a plain old pair of jeans. Apparently everything else just hadn't met up to whatever standards they went by. Except that everything Tsukasa had bought, did.

"Must not kill. I'm a doctor, I can't kill them." Tsukushi muttered under her breath like a mantra as she headed for the bathroom. "But those two aren't my patients, maybe just a little maiming? No! No maiming either, remember the Hypocratic oath. . ."

Fortunately for all concerned, Tsukushi was as quick to calm as she was quick to anger. At least, quick to calm when exposed to the blissful sensation that was scaldingly hot water, pouring down on to her with spectacularly high water pressure. Oh yes, that almost instantly erased all the hate from her mind. For the moment, happiness was hers. Tsukushi didn't care if she used up all the hot water in the tank, as she reveled in the feeling of being immersed in the cleansing torrent for a full twenty minutes. When she emerged at last, to scavenge the biggest and fluffiest possible towel from the bathroom's linen closet, she almost felt human again.

Still, she couldn't help but sigh ruefully at the sight of the clothes she'd grabbed to put on. They were simply Not her style. She'd obstinately taken her jeans—the ones she'd bought herself, but the top, the underwear, none of it was hers. But what choice did she have? Clean and not-her, or filthy gross? Clean would win any day. Reluctantly, she put on Tsukasa's Victoria's secret purchases, and it was just as well that she put them on when she did, for before she could even bend over to pull her jeans on, the bathroom door rattled and shook as if someone was trying to open the door. Tsukushi had been sure she'd locked it – who wouldn't lock the door, after all? So she didn't even have time to let out even a half-squeak of startlement before the doorknob turned, and the door opened. Well, so, she may not have had time to squeak, but Tsukushi's blush of mortification was instantaneous, and full body, as she looked up, like a deer in the head lights to meet the startled gaze of Rui.

They locked eyes for a long moment, teetering on the edge of eternity. Rui, of course, was the first to recover enough to speak, "The lock must be broken again." Those words were enough to snap Tsukushi out of her own daze.

"The lock? The lock, what the hell are you doing walking into an occupied bathroom?" she could feel her voice raising on the edge of hysteria, as she frantically grabbed for the towel she'd abandoned on the bathroom floor. (She didn't seem to realize or care, in the moment, what a view that gave Rui). "Get out!"

"I thought it was only Akira." Rui replied imperturbably, "I didn't realize you were the thong type, doc. It suits you." Has it been mentioned yet how good he was at hiding his true thoughts behind that stony façade? Well, yeah. He Acted all unflappable and shit, but you better believe that his traitorous eyes were taking in as much as he could before Tsukushi succeeded in hiding behind her towel, and that his blood pressure was reaching excessive heights. For someone who already had developed a dangerous fixation on his doctor, her state of near-undress (and considering just what sort of dress it was at that) was Not helping matters any. But he was fighting it. That too was truth.

For that matter, Tsukushi's own blood pressure was skyrocketing, though for different reasons entirely. So much anger, so early in the morning. "You thought it was Akira? So you'd walk in on him in the shower! Get out, just get out, now!" As he was not moving fast enough (or at all, really) to suit her, Tsukushi opened her mouth to scream embarrassed imprecations at Rui, but this time was interrupted by a different voice yelling from down the hall.

"Tsukasa! What the hell is This?" It was Akira, and by the sound of it, he was really pissed. As if by some unspoken agreement, Rui lingered long enough for Tsukushi to jam her jeans on and toss on the top before they obeyed the pull of Akira's voice, to head to Tsukasa's room and the source of this newest commotion.

What was Akira yelling about? Why had he so rudely interrupted Tsukasa (and Soujiro) from their well-deserved slumber? Akira'd awoken the same as any other day, except in Soujiro's room instead of his own. Big deal. He'd gone down to make coffee, again, as per routine, and out to grab the paper. What was unusual, was that there was more than one paper on the doorstep, and those extra papers were gossip tabloids. Now, it was not uncommon for tabloids to report on the F4, and occasionally when they published an article, they'd send the boys a free copy of the mag. (And if it was a really juicy article, they might even, as today, commission some paparazzi to stake out the band and get reactions, angry denials, whatever else they could get to add fuel to the fire.) Recently, of course there'd not been much to report. It had been big months ago when Rui was found, the house purchased, and Junpei ditched. And the lawsuit had provided a momentary splash. But legal wranglings are common as dirt, and boring besides. The F4 had been quiet, too quiet. Until yesterday's splash. As Akira'd bent to pick up the pile of papers, he'd a sudden sense of foreboding, a sense that was confirmed when his eyes flicked across the headlines, and the full page color spread. The flash of a camera at that moment and the sudden eager voices of the so-called press popping out from the bushes demanding a statement, verification, information, just cinched the deal. Yeah, he was going to kill Tsukasa. Just as soon as he got some answers.

"Uhh what?" Tsukasa blearily opened his eyes to what was becoming a common scene – someone yelling at him while everyone else stood around staring.

"This!" Akira gestured furiously at the bundle of papers he held in his other hand, and whirled around as if sensing Tsukushi's presence at the door, "And You! What the hell were you thinking? Aren't you supposed to be the responsible one? What happened to your sense of professional responsibility?"

"You were the one who went through my clothes last night." Tsukushi snapped back. She had no patience for this shit. Not today, "You saw where we went shopping, You could have said something then. Why wake everyone up?"

"The hell you say!" Akira shook his head, "This is not a picture of an innocent shopping trip."

"Can't be helped if it caught us at a bad angle." Tsukushi grumbled, "I hate having my picture taken."

"Can you all stop yelling? Some of us are still trying to sleep" Soujiro pulled his head out from under the blankets long enough to grumble at them. And long enough for Tsukushi to pause in the middle of her next denial and stare. She hadn't realized Soujiro and Doumyouji were sharing a bed. Though now that she looked more closely, she supposed the valleys and crests of the sheets made a bit more sense if you presumed some tangled limbs. Her eyes widened and she peered curiously at Tsukasa, who was struggling to free himself from Soujiro's deathgrip and sit up.

In a suddenly more normal voice, Tsukushi murmured, "I didn't realize you two were together like that." She wasn't sure if she should be creeped out or not. "That might explain a few things."

"Wha?" Tsukasa was slow to catch on. And Akira forgot his anger for a moment as he suddenly found himself breaking out in giggles. "You think they're Gay?" Even Rui was tempted to smile.

"No, no." Tsukushi denied, "Bi. . . I wonder if I could write a case report. I've heard of recent widows and widowers dealing with grief by finding each other. And I suppose gay couples could do the same. . . never heard of two men who lost their female significant others finding solace in each other, though. Weird. . . ."

"Excuse me." Tsukasa had turned beet red as the import of her words sunk in, "But I'm not gay, goddamnit." He did not look pleased. "This is all your fault!" Angry with embarrassment, he smacked Soujiro's exposed shoulder.

"Bi not Gay." Akira reminded with another giggle.

"You're the one who fucking sleeps with him every other night." Tsukasa accused, and turning again to Soujiro, "I fucking hate you."

"Lemme go back to sleep. You're not cute enough for me to want to see your face in the morning." Was all Soujiro would say in response, "Or cuddly enough. Not like a real woman."

Tsukushi was getting progressively more confused, "What am I missing?"

"Ahh doc," Akira sighed, "You mean you've never tried your psychoanalysis shit on Soujiro there? Pity. You could at least take a turn at Soujiro-duty like the rest of us, then."

"Uh. No." Tsukushi denied flatly, "I don' t think so."

"Can we get back to the topic on hand?" Soujiro had finally given up on sleep and sat up next to Tsukasa, "What's all the yelling about, anyway?"

"Doc Makino and Tsukasa got their pictures taken in some very compromising positions yesterday." Rui spoke first, having liberated the papers from Akira and perused the pictures while the other four were discussing Soujiro's sleeping habits.

"What!" Soujiro glanced back and forth between Tsukasa's scornful glare, and Tsukushi's impassive frown. "Why?"

"Ahh . . ." The sigh came from Rui, an almost involuntary exclamation of understanding.

"Ahh what?" Soujiro still didn't get it.

Akira looked around the room. Tsukushi, Tsukasa, Rui. They all seemed to be in on something. . . He thought hard. . . "But that doesn't make any sense," he puzzled out loud, "Why would you want to make it look like you and the doc were a couple?" For it was true, the headlines on the tabloids all read, "Year's hottest bachelor, eligible no more!" "Tsukasa's mystery date!" "Doumyouji In Love!" and the like. "You could get in big trouble for that." He directed that comment at Tsukushi.

"Yeah right." Tsukushi growled, "You know what. I don't fucking care anymore. And I don't see why you should either. It's a fucking tabloid. Get over it."

"But you did this deliberately, didn't you?" Akira couldn't help but press the issue.

"So?" Tsukasa challenged him.

"So, I want to know why. If we're going to be surrounded by paparazzi over this, I think we deserve to know why."

There was tense silence for a few seconds all around the room, as if Tsukushi and Tsukasa were trying to decide just how much to say. Then Tsukushi snapped her fingers as an idea came to her, "Where's my phone?" She quickly left the room, returning moments later with her cell and not quite a triumphant look on her face –more like a kind of resignation, like the fulfillment of an expectation you almost wish you hadn't had. "Here." She thrust the phone at Akira, "Listen." To the rest of the room she spoke in a low disgruntled tone, "I still don't now how the fucker got a hold of my cell number as well as my home phone. There's 3 messages there from this morning already."

Dutifully, Akira listened to her voicemail. . . A long silence ensued, then he passed the phone to Rui, who listened impassively, as if he'd already known what was coming, and passed it on to Soujiro. . . "He's crazy." Akira said at last, "Absolutely flipped it. You provoked him deliberately."

"Is that smart?" Soujiro was regarding the phone in some distaste.

"What's done is done." Tsukasa glared around t he room. Their attitudes weren't helping any.

"Ahem" Tsukushi cleared her throat, "It couldn't get much worse than it already was. That asshole kept calling my house last week, and sending presents. In case you hadn't already realized, I want nothing to do with Junpei. He doesn't get it. He doesn't want to get it. I'd rather disembowel him than talk to him, and I'd consider that a public service even if I am sworn to preserve life. I don't think my oath should apply to his kind of scum. I used to pretend that I thought that no one was beyond redemption," and here she glanced briefly at Rui, "but the truth is, I stopped believing that in college. Perhaps that makes me a bad person too. But if I can't hurt him the way he hurt me, then at least I can piss him the hell off if he's going to continue poking his unwanted presence into my life, and preventing me from forgetting him the way I'd like to." She produced a mirthless grin – more a baring of teeth than anything else. "He was waiting outside my apartment two nights ago when I tried to go home. I called the cops of course. Useless bastards told me that unless he was threatening me, or trespassing, he was free to stand wherever he wanted. Threatening me. " It was almost a wail. "I can't fucking breathe when he's near. The sound of is voice makes me want to vomit. So hell. I didn't go home that night. I could go on fighting him alone. But I chose to take sides. Mr. Doumyouji tells me he's causing you legal troubles, hanging off your necks like a fucking dead albatross. Well, I decided. For better or worse, I'm on your side now. And all that," A jerked nod at the pile of papers on the floor, "That's our declaration of war. Mr. Doumyouji and I." She was breathing heavily by the time she finished, as if even skirting that close to the truth that two of the four already knew had exhausted her.

"So you see," Tsukasa took up the speech, "that's the way it is. If you don't like it, you can leave us to it, but don't try to stand in our way."

"Oh hell." Soujiro muttered, "This is almost as bad as that blackmailing shit you pulled on us. Is this going to involve blackmail too?"

Tsukasa and Tsukushi exchanged glances. Tsukushi was the first to look away, "Probably." It was Rui, who observing the exchange, interpreted, "But Only if it's the only way." With a warning glare directed at Tsukasa.

"Well I'm glad someone knows what's going on with those two." Soujiro snidely remarked, "As I've not the faintest fucking clue what you all are up to anymore. Let the record show that All this scheming behind my back fucking sucks. Don't we deserve to know before

you make these kinda fundamentally critical decisions? Huh?"

"Soujiro's right." Akira cut in, "I'm with you, you know that. All for one and one for all. It's the way it has always been. I've got your back until the grave, man. But you gotta stop hiding shit from us. We're your friends. We're your partners. We're family. We deserve to know."

"Right then." Tsukasa took a deep breath, and turned to Tsukushi. "You heard Akira. Are you going to tell them, or am I?"

"It wasn't enough?' she knew the answer already but she had to try.

"No." That was Soujiro, who hadn't followed her diatribe all that well, " Doc. You joined our side right? You said it yourself, you're one of us now. But that means, we all have to play by the same rules."

"Does that include taking 'Soujiro duty' too?" Tsukushi asked with a shaky laugh, "No. Forget I asked that." She closed her eyes as if gathering her strength, and willing herself not to cry like she'd done last night. She'd known, unconsciously, that this was coming, this or something like, since Tsukasa had confronted her at the restaurant last night. It was why she'd known on wakening that today was going to be a bad day. Confronting the past could never put her in a good mood. Best just to get it over and done with then.

"Junpei and I went to the same college, you know. Back when I had friends. Back before I forgot how to smile. Back before he drove my friends away, before I realized how fragile were the ties that bound us, back before I learned that I didn't really understand the true nature of Anybody. . . . Back before he raped me. . . ."

TBC.

. . . two chapters in under a week. O how the thesis suffers as a result. O how this keyboard does nothing to help my natural lack of typing skills. O how I can't be bothered to proof b/c I am a lazyass bitch and it is past my bedtime .


	43. ch 42 in which people react

. . . hey-o, so after the number of complaints I got recently about my grammar, I went back and checked a little. While ch 40, 41 were no worse than usual, ch 39 when uploaded, seemed to have lost like 80 of the punctuation. The hell that happened, I don't know. I re-loaded it, and I think this time, all the punctuations stayed put. I didn't look any further, but if anyone sees any other chapters that look like I forgot how to use periods and commas entirely, please let me know and I'll reload them. The spelling typos, those are my fault. Also, I apologize for my ridiculously oblique writing style. I was never any good at being direct. So if you're confused, and want clarification on anything, please send me email at curdled(dot)milk(at)gmail(dot)com (replacing (dot) and (at) with appropriate punctuation, of course), and I will attempt to clarify. Otherwise, maybe things will become clearer in the plot, I just don't want to use the authors notes for that stuff, and speaking of clarity, I'm afraid that this chapter was mostly written while I was both utterly spaced out and curled up in agony from a rather unfortunate adverse drug reaction, so it may not be that coherent (2 half-lives left before I get to be back to normal damnit). But anyway . . on with the plot, such as it is. . . . .

They say it gets easier with the telling. Repetition. Eventually, you get inured to the memories. That's what they say. That's what Tsukushi had been taught. Hell, she'd said the same to many of her patients. That's what a hypocrite she was. Give patients advice she always refused to follow herself. But that's typical, really. Doctors do make the worst patients, no matter what their specialty. They never want to seek help for their issues. They say, 'oh well, I went to school for this shit, so I know enough. I'm fine really. I can handle the pain. I'm not sick. No, I don't need help.' Lies, all lies. They know it too, don't think that they don't. But the worst patients are the stubborn ones.

Tsukushi had always been nothing if not stubborn.

But she was finding out now, the way things were. She felt her cheeks flame with humiliation under the scrutiny she felt from the eyes of the four men around her. Why did it have to be these people she told her problems too? They weren't her associates. Hell, they weren't even her friends, were they? Two of them were her patients, and she was damned sure you didn't tell your patients how fucked in the head you really were or why. But it was a bit too late for second thoughts now, wasn't it? She wasn't really sure why she was telling them, at that. She hadn't awoken this morning thinking that this would be one of the consequences of her bargain with Tsukasa—a bargain she hadn't even realized she was making, come to think of it. It really had been a week of hasty decisions, hadn't it? She'd told Yuki, but that had been in anger, and hardly a real telling at that—more like a verbal slap, weighted down with guilt and spiked with buried resentments. This telling was not like that. The resentment was still there, the wariness she held towards all, especially arrogant men-- she couldn't help it if she scowled and occasionally sounded accusatory. She was who her past had made her, as are we all. But now, it almost felt as if her story had a goal – as if it wasn't just a personal history, a record of her emotional trauma, but was a means of cementing the group together. She knew their weaknesses and the reasons for them and they knew hers. Only if everything was laid on the table could they truly work together for the mutual good.

That still didn't really make the telling any easier. But what are you going to do?

Tsukushi talked until she was done, and then, not able to meet their eyes at this moment, pushed past Rui at the door and went to seek solitude elsewhere in the house (For even she realized that going outside right now, when there might be paparazzi around was not a great idea).

In Tsukasa's room, the four men were left alone again, in silence. Soujiro was probably the most stunned. Sure, he knew the doctor was messed up, but he wasn't the most intuitive guy in the world. He hadn't a freaking clue why, until she'd told them. After all, he himself was a ladies' man – he'd never had to pressure a woman in his life – he had enough trouble keeping them off without pursuing them. He was a physical kind of guy and he couldn't imagine not liking sex. He couldn't imagine how terrible it would be to go through life dreading intimacy because some asshole had ruined everything for you. At that moment, he missed Sara more than ever – the one person for whom he's always wanted everything to be perfect. He missed her – and he was glad she'd never stood in Dr. Makino's shoes. Though was it better to be dead or raped? At least one could recover from the one. . . . No, he didn't want to think about either any more. Nope. If it'd been nighttime, he might even have broken his promise to himself and gone out to try to forget the Doctor's tale by losing himself in some other woman's amorous embraces. But as it was morning, and he was still in bed, he settled for cuddling up to the closest warm body for comfort – that body, being of course, Tsukasa.

Tsukasa was, of course, not entirely surprised by Tsukushi's tale. But the devil is always in the details. And these details made him angry. And that Did surprise him. For, while he had pushed Dr. Makino into this uneasy alliance, and had pretty much forced her to work for their—for his--benefit, he had pretty much only let himself think in terms of what she could do for them, and not what they could do for her. Which is contradictory in itself, as he was the one who'd decided that she was 'One of Them.' But that just meant she belonged with them, as part of their group – That she had to be There, with them, for things to be right. Another selfish desire, on the face of it. But now he found himself getting angry on Tsukushi's behalf, not just his own, and with that, wanting to beat Junpei to a bloody pulp. But then, again, he often wanted to beat someone into the ground. At least Junpei was a better target than some of the more innocent victims of his fists.

Rui, well, Rui of course, said nothing. But when Dr. Makino had left the room, he followed her out, only a few paces behind. Not to catch up with Tsukushi. No. Instead, he headed for the practice room in the basement, where his violin waited for him – waited to express things he would not say. And damn, those meaningful silences would have shocked the hell out of Tsukushi, had she been privy to them. For when he'd left, he had wanted to follow the doctor. Had wanted to rage in frustration at her. But he had too long walled himself off with silences, even with his therapist, and he found he couldn't do it. And even the violin turned out to be unsuited for his mood, so Rui set it down, and stared moodily at the wall, wishing the voices in his head would shut the hell up.

God, it was more than he could take. Why did she have to come in to his life? Why did he even have to notice her? She was his shrink for fuck's sake, he should have been able to blow her off like all the others before her. After all, he'd perfected the attitude of the hopeless case. Damnit, He'd been almost a fucking perfect archetype of the hopeless case. He'd been so close, and then she'd taken it all away. . . . Except that she hadn't really taken Anything, and that was what truly hurt the most. It was him, all his own fault. He'd failed, he'd been weak, and betrayed the memory of his perfect Shizuka. How could he hope to join her in death now, when she'd know that his resolve had been weakened. And not just his resolve. . . Somehow along the way, the little doctor had changed from an annoyance, to a distraction, to a, a friend? And then, she'd crept into his heart. He'd woken up slowly to the realization that his doctor was . . . different from all the others, and from the other people he'd met. And she tried so hard to break through to him. And he hadn't been strong enough to resist. He hadn't been strong enough. Right now he wished he'd been strong enough. How could he have let a reunion with Shizuka slip away for more of this imperfect life?

Rui sighed regretfully, and buried his head in his knees. The how. . It was too late to ask how. What was, was. He'd made the decision, or it had chosen him. And he hated himself for it. But there it was, he'd fallen for his doctor, hard. And so he would live, because she wanted him to, and she had enough problems without his death adding to it. Even though he heard Shizuka's voice every day, calling for him, and felt the pull of the addiction gnawing at him, the craving for that chemical dystopia. Tsukushi --- was just so much more immediate. Everything to do with her, so much in the here and now, inescapable, even if he had the will. But that didn't mean it didn't feel like some sort of betrayal, to live.

And now he remembered Soujiro's warnings, and Tsukasa's counter argument, and his eyes blinked shut in frustration. It wasn't that simple. Because of her he'd chosen to live, but by doing so, he'd betrayed Shizuka. He couldn't worsen than betrayal by asking for more. And besides, he was damaged goods, as was the doctor. How could they possibly do each other anything but harm? Stand back. Watch. Guard. But not approach her as anything other than a patient, No.

Rui needed an instrument more jagged and intense than his melancholy violin to express his pain . He couldn't sing. Couldn't write. But he could play. Standing again, Rui paced to the corner and surveyed the other instruments there. Yah, they all thought he was the quiet and morose one. Why else would he play the unobtrusive but important bass? But he too felt anger, he too, felt the need to explode. He was only human after all. They could think whatever they wanted, but today, the neighborhood would get a little surprise awakening.

Rui plugged in an electric guitar, and turned the amp way up. Let this say what he could not. He closed his eyes, and his hands began to move, and then there was nothing but the sound washing around him, and through him, and vibrating through the house out into the aether.

When he opened his eyes again. Tsukasa was standing in the doorway, a look of intense concentration on his face.

"Play that again." He demanded.

When Rui just stared blankly, unhappy at having his solitude interrupted, Tsukasa repeated himself, "Go on. Play. I need to hear the beginning if I'm going to get the lyrics right."

That's one thing Rui hadn't taken into account. That sometimes there were others around who knew how to say what you could not. He bowed his head and began again.

Back upstairs, Tsukushi had retreated to the room in which she'd awoken that morning – Akira's room. She didn't want to go near the window, and risk being seen by the paparazzi she knew were out there, for then she'd never get to leave in peace, so she sat on the bed instead, curling up in the fetal position, and trying not to cry again. She had to be strong, to carry on. . . . She hadn't taken into account the idea, that now, among these four men, she wasn't alone. She didn't have to everything by herself. Didn't always have to be strong, to be in control. That's the whole point of belonging to a group.

She sure as hell didn't feel like she belonged. Right now she just wanted to go home to her own familiar bed, and to her own hospital, on the wards where patients didn't insist on becoming as much a part of your life as you were of theirs. That's what she wanted, And what she knew she could not have. You can't go back in time. You cannot change the choices that you've made. You can only move on. Tsukushi was still sitting curled up in a ball trying desperately not to think about the irrevocable changes that had affected her life, when she heard someone enter the room.

"Go away." She muttered without raising her head from her knees. No one ever seemed to do as she asked around here, and the footsteps drew nearer. Tsukushi still refused to look up and face the intruder, so she was not expecting it when Akira sat down on the bed behind her, and wrapped his arms around her in a comforting hug. He really was the mother-hen of the group—the one who fussed over chipped plates, and mediated disputes, who did his best to hold the group together when it fractured at the seams. So, to him, it felt only natural to give what comfort that he could. After all, if it were one of his sisters sitting here, he'd do much more than hug.

For Tsukushi, however, it was a shock. Especially with her dislike of being touched. She stiffened in Akira's arms, her spine snapping instantly into rigidity, her heart suddenly pounding as she fought the panic reflex.

"Shh. . . Shh. . . " Akira murmured in her ear, "It's called a hug. You know, you looked like you needed one."

Tsukushi stubbornly remained silent, though she did relax an infinitesimal amount, and managed to not let herself flip out in the need to escape his grasp.

"See?" Akira continued, "Not that bad. Breathe doc. You're not breathing. Take a deep breathe," he coaxed, "Like that, now let it out. . . Good." He let her go, with a final pat on the back, "See, that wasn't so bad was it?"

Tsukushi's jaw twitched as if she was refraining from yelling at him for treating her like a child, or an idiot.

"Now, doc." Akira went on, "You see, we've got a problem here. You realize, don't you, that Tsukasa's going to want to use your past to blackmail Jun into giving up the fight against us, don't you?"

Unhappily, Tsukushi nodded.

"Yeah." Akira sighed, "You aren't thinking, and he's not thinking things through. Look, life sucks, and maybe it shouldn't have to but it does. You know that, you're the psychiatrist after all, you know as well as I do that shit happens to the best of us. But you gotta move past it. Isn't that what you said to Rui? I'm glad that you told us what went down and all, though I am sorry it ever had to happen, but you know, it doesn't have to define the rest of the shape of your life. You can chose to continue to wall us out, to sit there like a stone, or you can learn to trust us. You gotta trust someone sometime. And we're not Junpei. We're not out to steal your life away. I know that this whole thing started out on the wrong foot—Tsukasa is a bit heavy handed. But, he's not a bad man. And no matter what you might think, neither of the rest of us are either. We mean well, really. So listen, when I tell you, that if you go along with Tsukasa's plan your life is going to suck. A lot. Until we've won. And if we lose, then I don't know. I'd really rather you didn't hold it against us, like I'm sure you'd like to. So I'll explain.

"Jun's not going to go down quietly. And, to start with, now that your picture's been prominently splashed up in all the tabloids alongside Tsukasa, you're not going to have quite the leverage. It'd have been dubious anyway, given the extent of your association with us. Any accusations you make against Jun, he's going to publicize. And then, he'll go into detail about how you're making it up because of your fondness for Rui, or he'll find someone that saw us go home together and blame me, or the fact that you and Tsukasa were seen together, so maybe he'll say you are fucking Tsukasa too, or maybe all four of us. It's going to play hell with your career. You'll be in the public eye. And there's going to be speculation about the 'work' you do here, or someone will find out what lengths Tsukasa went through to get you here, just for us. It's not going to be pretty. You don't want to go there."

"So," Tsukushi had listened silently, feeling the tension wind up inside of her, "So, what am I supposed to do? If the tabloids haven't pissed him off enough to drive him out of my life for good – my association with his enemy, then he's still going to be hounding me. He wants what you all appear to have. And guess what? Because of Tsukasa's desire for a personal head shrinker, that includes me. What do you suggest I do about that? It's not like I wanted this – any of it! I was happy before you people came in and tromped on my life. If it weren't for you, I'd've never had to deal with Junpei again."

"But you weren't really happy." Akira remarked quietly, "And you might not have encountered Jun again, but you weren't exactly coming to terms with your past either."

"Oh. Fuck off." Tsukushi retreated into cursing, as if that could make him back off. "I don't need you spouting that crap at me. I'm the professional here."

"Then act like it." He challenged.

"Oh aren't you just full of useful advice. You know," she went on bitterly, "I'd really like to. I want to get back to being a professional. At the hospital, with the patients who need me. The ones who don't try to reverse the roles on me." She paused, as a thought struck her, "And you know what? I'm going to do it."

It was as if something had snapped in her. Tired of being pushed around, tired of going with the flow. She was going to fight for what she wanted this time, damn it. She'd made the first step when she allied herself with Tsukasa and the rest of the F4 against Junpei. She was going to stop being a victim and fight back, even if that set her at odds with some of the things that Tsukasa wanted from her—She had to live how she wanted, and not in the mold that they tried to force her in. Oh, she'd do what she could for their cause, though as Akira had said, it wouldn't be as straightforward as she'd thought. There would be a way though. She knew Junpei's weaknesses. They could be exploited. He could be made to go away. To leave them all alone. And maybe that victory would finally free her from the doubt and shame she'd felt for so long.

"I'm going to do it." She repeated more firmly. "Give me my phone. I've got a call to make."

TBC.

. . . funny, how this chapter is nothing like it was supposed to be. The original idea in my brain had a confrontation with Rui, instead of a heart to heart with Akira. And none of the other crap. There was also a version in my head one day as I went to sleep involving Soujiro And akira trying to help Tsukushi get over her little insecurity/ fear of loss of control issues with men. Or likewise, last chapter at one point I wanted it to be Soujiro who walked in on her in the bathroom, and subsequently that ch would have been Much different. Ye-ahhh.. if I had time, and could remember them all, I'd write the outtakes up.. wouldn't be able to post them on ff(dot)net though. Of course, if I obeyed the original idea I had for this fic, it'd have ended a long time ago too. Ho hum. . .


	44. ch 43 in which boys tease

Au 43

. . . well hey I have a lull while I wait for my advisor to give me the revisions on my results sections, so I may as well write another chapter, right? Right. It's a bit short though . . . .

Akira dug Tsukushi's phone out of his back pocket and handed it over. Tsukushi had just flicked it open and started to page through her address book, when it began to ring.

"Speak of the devil." Almost, she laughed as she hit the receive button, "Hello, Doctor Makino here." She spoke crisply and clearly, but with a bit of an edge. It was her chief, and she could guess what he was calling about, but she was having none of it, "Uh-huh. Yeah, I saw the headlines. Didn't know you read that kid of tabloid, sir." The defiance was plain in her voice, "What, my reputation? The hospital's reputation? Don't make me laugh. . . What? What do you think you're going to do about it? . . . Fire me? Sir, you can't do that. . . Why not? Let me tell you why not. If you even so much as try, I will tell the world exactly how I got stuck in such a, as you put it, compromising situation, in the first place. You think my picture in the tabloids is a problem, you just wait until they get my story about this so-called private clinic established solely for the purpose of giving my exclusive services to a bunch of spoiled musicians instead of the underprivileged client base I was fucking trained for. What? The bribery wasn't your fault? It wasn't you who Mr. Doumyouji blackmailed? I don't care, So what if it was our CEO? Just think of the bad press for the hospital. Worse than any perceived misconduct of mine. And let me tell you, I have done Nothing wrong. I don't give a shit what you think, after you sold me. And that's really what this is, you sold me as some sort of private psychiatrist slave. You just can't do that in this day and age and get away with it, So don't even try to threaten me, you pathetic excuse for a man."

"Umm. . . . Doc? Aren't you getting just a bit too worked up?" Akira interrupted, a worried from creasing his face.

"No." Tsukushi replied flatly, her hand covering the phone to mute the outraged squawking if the chief of the psychiatry service "Go get Mr. Doumyouji's computer. I'm going to need it in a moment, I think."

"Yes master." Akira sighed, reflecting on just how similar she sounded to Tsukasa at that moment.

As he left the room, Tsukushi turned her attention back to the man on the other end of the phone line. "I've gone to far, eh? No, I don't think so. I haven't gone far enough. So let me start. . . No, No, you don't get to interrupt. Let me have my say, I've earned it. After all, didn't you say only a few weeks ago when you consigned me to this hell, that I was the best resident you had, and that you were going to miss me? I bet things are going to hell over there at the hospital without me, aren't they? No surprise that. I want to come back, I've had enough of this bullshit. . . . What, you can't do that? You don't want to lose the precious, precious funding Mr. Doumyouji gave the hospital. Pathetic. Money can't buy everything. Money can't buy me. You will give me my old position back in the residency program, or I will go public with Mr. Doumyouji's transactions with the hospital. Moreover," here she paused as Akira returned with Tsukasa's laptop, "I will provide the more sordid details as well," she searched Tsukasa's files rapidly. It was a good thing that the man kept excellent records, "Lets see here. . . Ooh. . . Here's what he used to blackmail our fine upstanding CEO. . . You want to hear the details? And. . .Uh- oh. Here's a file on you. Shall I open it?" She was bluffing here, but he didn't know that, "No. Ok. . . Give me my life back." It was an ultimatum, "I'll be in Monday. My usual time. I'm sure the rest of the department will be thrilled." At least those who didn't want to kill her for her 'good luck' or her bad attitude or her unwonted work ethic. "Have a nice day. Bye now." With a decisive snap she closed her phone, and stretched happily, blissfully unaware of Akira's wondering eyes, or those of Soujiro, for that matter, who had drifted into the door way at the first sound of her raised voice. "Ahhhh. . . . That felt so good! I've been wanting to say that to that pompous ass for so long."

"Whoa. . . scary. . ." Akira and Soujiro murmured almost in unison. They'd seen her angry , and they'd seen her upset. But never had they seen her so effectively brutal. So much like Tsukasa. So determined to get her way. So cheerfully energetic.

"Wait. . ." Soujiro was the first to realize "You can't leave us! Tsukasa will flip. And he's been so much less psycho recently. Him and Rui both."

"I want my life back." Tsukushi repeated adamantly, "He needs to know too, that I can't be bought."

"But I thought. . ." Soujiro trailed off uncertainly.

"We thought you were on our side." Akira finished. "Besides, you don't have a life."

" I have a career." Tsukushi glared at his lack of tact, "I may be willing to help you with Junpei. But not at the expense of my career. . . Or my self-respect." She added almost as an afterthought.

"I can respect that." Soujiro nodded, although neither he nor Akira looked happy. Neither wanted to have to tell Tsukasa of this defection. "But. . ."

"What would you have me do?" Tsukushi sighed, moved, somewhat, by their unexpectedly woebegone faces. They'd grown used to having her around, and while she wad rarely friendly towards them, at least her influence seemed to stabilize Tsukasa and Rui. And despite her prickly nature, they had to admit, they liked her. She had fire. And she cared. And she was so fun to tease too. They weren't really used to having friends outside of each other, but they supposed she was probably the closest thing to it.

"Stay here." Akira stated.

"I already told you." Tsukushi bridled, "I have to look after my career."

"No, no. Move in. you can go to that awful hospital of yours and slave your life away if you must. But come back here at night."

Tsukushi opened her mouth to object, but was anticipated by Soujiro.

"Wait. You won't have to do psychotherapy or whatever the hell it is you do with those two. . . just. . .be here, let them talk to you. Smack Tsukasa down when he's being an ass. You know. . ."

"You don't know what you're asking." Tsukushi muttered reluctantly.

"Sure we do." Akira denied, "You're the Tsukasa-tamer, you're the reason Rui bothers to get out of bed in the morning. You think we want to lose that? No fucking way."

"Besides," Soujiro chimed in, "If you move in here, Akira will cook for you, so you can stop being such a sorry sack of bones, and I'll help you buy a better wardrobe—And why are you wearing those jeans? Didn't we throw those out?" He seemed cheerfully oblivious to the impending doom that glowered in Tsukushi's eyes.

"You threw out all the new clothes I bought?"

"Well, they were cheap. And ugly," Soujiro nodded, not prepared for the doctor's ensuing lunge across the room at him,

"I'm going to kill you shitheads!"

"Hey hey now!" He danced out of the way, "We didn't throw out the ones we liked, Ack! You're a doctor, why do you have to be so violent, didn't you swear an oath, not to hurt people? Quit it!" Fortunately, Akira came to his rescue, restraining the angry doctor, who then turned to round on him,

"And you! You need to maintain this house better! The fucking bathroom doesn't lock! How am I supposed to shower when people can just walk in on me?"

"Whoa. . .What?"

Soujiro was the first to put two and two together. He burst out laughing. "Must have been Rui, no one else is likely to make her turn such a shade of red. After all, I was with Tsukasa, and you've seen her naked already." At this, Tsukushi turned even more apoplectically purple. "Were you wearing your new underwear? Or did you give Rui an even better show? . . .Oh the poor man, It's a good thing you're not going to be his doctor much longer. . . hey, can you date ex-patients?"

"What!" Tsukushi went rapidly from being horrified, to stunned, to just plain confused. Did they know that she sometimes had untoward feelings for her patient? Or were they implying that he. . . ? He couldn't. . . . Not Rui. Not when it took all her energy to get him to even smile. . . "No!" She denied flatly, putting an end to such errant speculation, "We can't."

"Why not?" Akira was genuinely curious.

"It's complicated." Tsukushi sighed and sank back down on the bed, "There's potential for emotional abuse and power issues resulting from the doctor-patient relationship. It's just. . .It's just not good."

"Even if it's a mutual attraction?"

"Even if." Tsukushi nodded, but her eyes narrowed suspiciously, "What are you on about?"

"Oh you know." Soujiro pretended innocence, "You and Rui. Rui and You."

"No. I do not know." Tsukushi went for affronted innocence.

"What about Tsukasa?" Akira waggled an eyebrow suggestively, "After all he did buy you that sexy underwear, did he not?"

"Man's got good taste." Soujiro agreed, even as he warily eyed Tsukushi's fists.

"You know." Tsukushi muttered through her teeth, "You're doing a really shitty job of convincing me that I need to move in here."

Yeah. They really were, but the two men were enjoying their banter too much to stop. And, as Tsukushi had nowhere else to be, they got to continue for quite sometime, leaving her flustered and irate. It wasn't until Tsukushi received another call, this time from a crying Yuki, that she began to take their proposal to move in seriously.

When she saw the caller ID, at first Tsukushi was loathe to answer, but she had to talk to her friend and roommate sometime, so reluctantly she picked up. It was just as well that she did, for it is always best to hear bad news in person. The upshot, she gathered over Yuki's nearly hysterical apologies, was that their landlord was really pissed off at her. Apparently, someone had identified her in the tabloid photos, and it had not taken long for the paparazzi to stake out her building and make major nuisances of themselves. Her landlord was a real ass to begin with, and he didn't appreciate the noise or the hassle of the so-called journalists lurking outside his property. Nor was he a great on for patience. He wanted her gone. And Tsukushi had a month-to-month lease. So she would have to go. Maybe not today. But within 30 days. And Yuki too. Giving Tsukushi an added stab of guilt for getting her friend into this, But they had both known the risks when they'd moved into the apartment.

After an interminably long conversation with Yuki, Tsukushi finally managed to hang up the phone and turn back to the insufferable duo who'd been avidly eavesdropping on her every word. She closed her eyes, braced herself, and drew in a long-suffering sigh, "So what are you demanding for rent again?"

"Nothing but that you deal with Rui and Tsukasa."

"Better you than Us,"

"I want that in writing, and a room of my own, and the bathroom door lock fixed. And you are not to fuck with my clothes." Once her mind was made up, Tsukushi did not want there to be any turning back.

"Done." Akira agreed instantly.

"Except the clothes thing." Soujiro put it under his breath. The woman was a fashion disaster—someone had to help her. . . fortunately Tsukushi did not hear him.

"Alright then." She blinked, hoping she hadn't just made a monumental mistake. "When do I move in?"

"As soon as possible." On this Akira and Soujiro agreed wholeheartedly, especially if the doctor intended to go back to her 'real work' on Monday.

And thus, Tsukushi and the F4 entered in upon the next stage in their relationship. From antagonism to strained civility and a less than standard therapeutic relationship, to wary allies, to roommates, and potential friends, all in the blink of an eye. It was almost more than Tsukushi could take.

But if the F4 could handle her, then she could handle them. Of that much, she was determined.

TBC.


	45. ch 44 in which Soujiro has a monologue

. . . so this chapter. . . this is the alternate, alternate version of what I'd wanted to go here. So far from the original in plot, if not in terms of character points covered, that it's not even funny. I also managed to write the alternate version. Actually I started that before this little disaster of a scene. But I hated it more. And neither live up to the scenes in my head. Which I just couldn't write. Like I can't paint the pictures I see behind my eyes. But anyway, if you're interested in checking out a version of this ch that's very different and actually closer what I wanted to write, though not much, drop me an email at curdled(dot)milk(at)gmail(dot)com and I'll send it off. Everyone needs another few minutes of crap to keep 'em punting. And who knows, after I write the next ch, I may decide that I want to use the other version instead of this one after all. We'll see. Especially as there's some philosophical repetition here of stuff in an earlier chapter. sorry, I used it to make a point. I think. You'll see. Anyway on with the chapter. . .

Several weeks had passed since Tsukushi had made her fateful decision to move in with he boys and (more or less), stop playing the role of their shrink. The transition back to an approximation of her old life had been rough, for sure. You'd think that the other residents would be happy to have her back, happy to have a load, or two, or three, taken off their shoulders. They weren't of course. Instead, they were jealous of her 'luck,' her 'vacation' from their normal life, her new connections with the rich and famous. And of course, they'd seen the photos of her and Tsukasa. Tsukushi had returned, that first Monday, to find the tabloid spreads plastered across her desk in greeting, obscene dialogues penciled in. She'd grit her teeth, and trashed the offending nonsense without a word. No sense stirring up more hostility than she had to by wasting her time in confrontation with the perpetrators.

Getting back to the patients was better. That made her feel good. Useful again. But dead tired. She'd gotten used to a more leisurely schedule, less time on her feet. Being back in the ER was exhausting, the variety of patients and their myriads of different problems were challenging, after the one-note-issues of the F4. But she coped, somehow, and after a while it began to feel familiar again, the perpetual tiredness, the stress, and the challenge, just part of the job. Part of why she kept on coming back.

Going "home" at the end of the day, was another matter entirely. It was hard to overcome her standoffish nature, and the hostility she'd built up inside herself towards to F4 enough to feel like she actually fit in in their house as anything more than an interloper. It didn't feel like coming home. It felt wrong. And she was confused by attitudes in the house. Rui, if anything, becoming more distant and standoffish – was he angry with her, and why? And sometimes, she caught Tsukasa looking at her with some kind of speculation in his eyes. It made her nervous that look. She still hadn't figured out how to tackle the Junpei issue, which was, after all, what this uncomfortable alliance was supposedly all about, right? So, it was all a bit nerve-wracking and weird. Like much of her year to date.

But after a week or two, she finally thought she was adapting. Beginning, just barely, to feel ok with coming home at night to this strange creaking house, filled with noise and motion and emotions. Still, it came as a surprise when Akira told her one morning as she was gulping down her coffee, that he and Tsukasa were taking Rui out to a concert in the next city down the coast and that they'd be gone the night. She felt weird, somehow, being around the house without the men there. She'd grown used to their presence. It was reassuring, in a way, to be surrounded by their sheer energy, even if so much of it was negative. Though it's not as if she would be totally alone. Soujiro was staying home too.

She got through the day at work, a long grueling exhausting day, only to stumble home to an empty fridge, and a darkened house, and no sign of Soujiro. She presumed he must've gone out to find his own party while the other hoys were away. Which was why his voice behind her came as such a surprise.

"Heya, doc."

Tsukushi didn't look up from where she sat, slumped on the edge of the back porch, staring out at the tiny weed-strewn backyard, contemplating the loneliness the empty house inspired in her.

"You look like you've seen better days. What's up?" With elaborate casualness, Soujiro slouched to a seat next to the small woman, and draped an arm over her hunched shoulders. Clutched tightly in one hand was a small, half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels. "Oh yeah," He shrugged, when Tsukushi's only response was to frown and cock an inquisitive eyebrow at him, "Akira found Tsukasa's stash. I'm, ah, helping to dispose of it. Want some?" He proffered the bottle in her general direction.

"No thanks." Tsukushi muttered, the distaste evident on her drawn features.

"Have it your way." Soujiro took another swig and stared out into the gathering dusk, pretending not to notice the way the doctor remained hunched tensely beneath his outflung arm.

The silence stretched on. Tsukushi was not in the mood for conversation, and Soujiro was pondering why he'd come out here at all. At last he spoke.

"You know doc, I've always believed that thinking to much is bad for your soul. I try to avoid it as much as possible. I know you can't, not in your profession. But for your own happiness, maybe once in a while, you could learn to relax. I've heard yoga is good." He took a breath, and began in again to cut off Tsukushi's outrage, "I myself have always preferred sex. You know, we're evolved to enjoy it, so it can't be bad, right. But we're also conditioned to enjoy relationships too. Or maybe that's instinct too, I don't know.

"I had a conversation with Rui a month ago, more or less. . . . Did I ever tell you, my Sarah was saving herself for marriage?" He laughed briefly, a harsh sound in the lonely dark of night, "Yeah, she really was. I mean, I respected her decision and all. It's her body, but yeah. I couldn't wait. And it was a bit late for that for me anyway, You don't want to know what age I lost my virginity at, trust me. Long before I even met Sarah. But so, I was a famous musician. And I've been voted among the top 20 hottest men in the country for 5 years running. The woman flocked to me. And I really like sex." He paused for another sip of whiskey, "I guess, I can't really explain it to you. . . I'd probably feel guilty trying. . .Or you'd kick my ass, I bet. But that's how it is. I'd think, we're biologically programmed for this. How can it be wrong? But then, I'd go back home to Sarah at the end of a tour, and the relationship would kick in. And That felt good too, in an entirely different way. But she wasn't ready for marriage, and I couldn't settle down. I don't know. When she died, I lost something, and everything since has been about trying to regain that feeling. Instead, all I got was the guilt. I'd always forget the guilt when I went on tour, the guilt for cheating on the woman I loved. That's what a relationship also gives you, responsibility. The ability to sin. When she was alive, I always felt, that somehow, someday, I could make it up to her, that I'd treat her so well to make amends for straying. For my selfishness and mistakes. But she died, and I never got to do any of that.

"Instead, all I had left was the sex. And it was still good. You can't do much better than the feeling of being totally immersed in someone. But then, the price I've had to pay, the recoil in guilt that I could not purge, because somehow, I'm still cheating on her. And now she can never forgive me. That's the thing. Forgiveness. I stopped playing around, because I could no longer continue to forgive myself. Why should I indulge in my own selfish sin, if Tsukasa, even Rui, are both trying to overcome their own? I couldn't. That's what I told Rui.

"But I've been wondering. Why can't we have it all? Why is everything an "Or" proposition? Sex or Love, Life or Death, Stability or a career? It's ironic. If it weren't for the accident, we'd have washed up years ago—just another boyband grown too old. Instead, we lost everything that made life really worth living and gained fame, and the addictions that go with it. Great trade, huh?

"But I didn't come out here to bitch about my own problems, 'cause I'm sure you've heard it all before – there are only so many stories in all of human experience after all, only so many emotions to go around. I came here to talk about yours. Let's talk about guilt, doc. Let's talk about what is an Or proposition in your life and what is an And proposition."

"And if I have no desire to talk?" Tsukushi, nettled by his intrusion into her silence, responded rather rudely.

"No problem" Soujiro blithely replied, taking another pull from the bottle, "I'd already planned to do all the talking. All you gotta do is sit there and listen. That's all I'm asking. And If what I'm saying makes you mad, the just blame it on the ramblings of a drunk fool. I don't have a serious mind, I don't like to think. So this is all mindless junk. Mindless junk can't hurt you."

"Everything can hurt you." Tsukushi sighed, and looked up at the clouded night sky.

"Only if you let it, doc. Only if you let it." Soujiro moved his arm at last, no longer draped in a caricature of camaraderie across Tsukushi's shoulder, but lower now so he could pat her back, and rub his hand in soothing circles on her spine.

"Anyway, as I was saying." Soujiro made an attempt to pull himself back on topic, "A few weeks ago, I told Rui that he could not have the two things that he wanted. The one he admitted to. You know drugs, and shit. And the one he wouldn't, that is, you. God, you wouldn't believe the way he glared at Akira for days after you guys hooked up. You didn't even notice. It was kind of funny, you know. Funny and cute, how you peeked at him when he wasn't looking, and he at you when you weren't. Sad too, 'cause we could guess the way you felt, honor and ethics at that shit. You had your career, therefore you couldn't have Rui. Even if you had noticed the way he tried to monopolize you, which you didn't.

"I told him he couldn't have you. That it just wouldn't fly. That he needed to move on. But I got to thinking, why not? Why can't you have both your career and love? Why does there always have to be guilt involved? You've got guilt about your job, and about Junpei, (which, bytheway, you got to get over, it's not your fault he's an ass. Haven't you helped enough other people—Isn't it time you helped yourself?). Any way, Rui's got guilt about Shizuka. You know, he still somehow thinks that the accident was his fault. Well, of course you know. But yeah. I read about it. Akira made me. Survivor's guilt and all. I guess, you noticed recently, he's been moping around more than usual? How could you miss it? Turns out, now he's got this whole new complex about how this thing he's got for you is a betrayal of her. I guess I finally rubbed off on him, hey? Sorry about that. Though I maintain that my flings are not the same as his little fixation."

"What's your point?" Tsukushi sighed tiredly, not wanting to have to listen to his ramblings anymore. She didn't want to think about Rui. or herself. Or anything. She just wanted to watch the moon rise. Really.

"Ugh." Soujiro put down his bottle, and ran a hand through his tousled hair. "My point. Shit. I was getting to it really. You sure you don't want some of this? Jack and I are old buddies, almost as far back as Tsukasa. Hah! Sex and alcohol!

"OK, fine. My point." Soujiro quickly took another sip from his bottle, himself, "You should be able to have it all. I think it's about goddamned time we had a little more happiness around. I think we all deserve a fucking break already. You shouldn't have to deal with guilt over things you can't control. And which are stupid anyway. Your dumb little rules made up by the men in white coats, or Love? Hell, If I were you, I'd say the hell with the rules, and break them for far less. They're meant to be broken. Rules are inflexible. Life is flux. You're good for Rui. And he can't possibly be any worse for you than your past boyfriends. You know, like Junpei. Hell, you slept with Akira, you could at least give Rui a chance. Jump him, because he's too determined to not say anything. Show each other that happiness is not something to regret!

". . . A few days ago, that's what I was getting ready to tell you. . . . And then, I head Tsukasa and Rui practicing. Have you heard that new song they're working on?"

Reluctantly, Tsukushi nodded, a tight knot forming in her stomach as she thought back. It had been only yesterday, that she'd come home, an idea on her mind on how to tackle the Junpei problem. She'd gone looking for Tsukasa, at last making her way to the basement. The door to the practice room was closed, but she could still hear, and feel the reverberations in her bones, of the music within. There was a wildness about the piece, even in its unfinished form, an aching frustration, of the kind that sets your teeth on edge and makes it hard to breathe. The kind of clenched frustration that makes it hard to sleep at night. Fraught through with melancholy despair. Like a tight-leashed secret that lurks within, held back solely by force of will, the frustration of always holding back, the despair of knowing this is the lesser of two evils, the greater being to let the secret spill out. Too afraid to act, but rotting on the inside from the inaction.

Can you describe that feeling in sound? Rui and Tsukasa did. Tsukushi couldn't understand the words ripping from Tsukasa's throat in hoarse musical screams, but she intuitively felt them in her heart. The pain that he sung, was Rui's and it stabbed her like knives. Wounds that she could not heal.

"Yeah." Soujiro nodded slowly, feeling the muscles of Tsukushi's back twitch under his hand at the memory, "Pretty intense. . . .The problem is, you know, Tsukasa always writes our lyrics. And you know Tsukasa. If he says something, he means it. The man drives me insane on a regular basis, and his temper is even worse than yours, but the man is honest, unlike me, unlike Akira, unlike Rui, unlike you. What you see is what you get. Tsukasa has never written lyrics for a song he didn't feel. Never. When we were a boyband, I wrote them, or Akira. Not Tsukasa." He paused again, and tilted his head to look at Tsukushi in the darkness, waiting for the implication to sink it. Plainly, she didn't quite get it. He really was going to have to spell everything out, "Doc. The music, the score, of what you heard. That came first. That's all Rui. He doesn't do lyrics. The words, that say what the music feels. . . That's Tsukasa. Listen to me, Tsukushi. Rui and Tsukasa feel the same way."

Somehow, though she wouldn't admit it to herself, Tsukushi had almost been expecting these words. Slowly she lowered her head to her hands, and when she raised it again, long minutes later, her voice was as shaky as her outstretched hand reaching past Soujiro for the bottle of Jack sitting on rickety porch steps.

"I think, I'll take that drink now."

"Yeah." Soujiro agreed morosely. And silence fell for a while, as the two not-quite-friends-but-working-on-it passed the bottle back and forth.

"He can't. . ." Tsukushi's denial broke the silence.

"He can." Soujiro averred, "He does."

"But. . . " Tsukushi had meant to say, that she hated him, or that he hated her, but her traitorous tongue refused to say the words. Instead, she burst out with, "But all we do is fight, He's like a psychiatrist's worst nightmare!"

"What's that got to do with anything?" Soujiro laughed, "I don't think I've had a civil conversation with him in years. Still, he's one of my best—my only friends. I'd still do almost anything for him, as he would for me."

"But." Tsukushi's brain was stuck. Wanting to deny, but some how utterly unable.

"But nothing." Soujiro shook his head, "Sorry, doc. You're stuck. Tsukasa likes you. Maybe even as much as Rui."

"Oh god." Again, Tsukushi buried her head in her hands, he muffled voice rising from between her knees, "This is a nightmare."

"No. It's life." Soujiro looked away from her, up at the moon finally beginning to peek through the nighttime clouds, "Besides, shouldn't you be happy? Two of the country's best, most attractive musicians have fallen in love with you. It's a great honor."

"A great honor, my ass!" Tsukushi wailed, "Patients aren't supposed to fall for their doctors! I mean, really, they've always made fun of me at the hospital for my greater than average number of psycho stalker patients, but this is just too much!"

"Psycho stalker patients?" Soujiro repeated wonderingly, before wrenching his mind back to the present, "Well ok, but you're also not supposed to fall for your patients either."

"I know that! You think I wanted this? You think we all enjoy pretending indifference? It's the way it has to be. Why must you make it worse?"

"Because as I said, Tsukasa is my friend. He's not going to say anything to you, because Rui is his friend. But someone has to, because he's torturing himself over this. He's not good at keeping things inside. I've seen him, he values your good opinion. He trusts your opinion or he wouldn't've manipulated you into working for us in the first place. He likes you. But he doesn't want to say anything. Doc, Tsukasa's like the rest of us. He's more like Rui than he'll ever admit. He's lonely. Lonely like you." Soujiro barked a short, unhappy laugh, "Like me, like Akira. But he's got it worse. He fell for you. After Rui did. What would you do if your best friend was interested in the same guy as you? Would you let her have him? Or would you kick her ass? Trust me. Tsukasa wants to kick Rui's ass right now. But he's afraid of the consequences.

"He's also afraid of rejection. So Doc. Be kind to him. Please. In a perfect world, you could have it all, you could have Rui, your job, Tsukasa too. And none would interfere with the others."

"But this is not a perfect world" Tsukushi interrupted

"No, it's not." Soujiro shook his head sadly, "But that doesn't mean you can't try to make it so—And I know you do your best – for everyone else. Why don't you try, just once, to make it a little more perfect for yourself? Enjoy life while you can, Jump Rui. Hell, jump Tsukasa. Jump them both, Why not? Threesomes can be good too. Live it up. Take back your life. Take back your sexuality. That body was meant to enjoy life, not lived wrapped up in dowdy clothes never feeling the decadent pleasures that we're evolved to enjoy. Go for it. But don't turn your back on those who love you. If you let them down, make sure that it's for a good cause, and that you'll have no regrets. I wish I had thought of that years ago myself."

"And my job? My career?" Tsukushi countered, "Besides, even if I wanted to, as you say, jump Rui, much less Tsukasa, that's. . ." she drew a shuddering breath and continued bitterly, ". . .that's just not something I can do. I can't love like that. I don't have that much to give." She was thinking how awkward it would be, how much better it was to remain platonic, not have to face the inadequacy she felt in romance, the shuddering dread that sex always brought. The fear of losing control, and of letting her partner down, the inability to relax and let the moment happen. And besides that, what had she to bring to a relationship? She had no life. And her career wasn't exactly the best date-type conversation.

"Goddamnit." Soujiro swore, "How the hell does a psychiatrist get by on so little self esteem? How do you convince your patients of anything?"

"Because I know when I'm right." Tsukushi's head jerked up automatically at the challenge.

"And?"

"What?"

"Are you right now?" Soujiro shook his head, "You know you're not. And besides," He smiled suddenly, "Akira said you weren't That bad. Really. High praise from him. Hell, he's the one who should be ashamed, not you. Me, I'd be embarrassed as all hell if I couldn't bring my lovers to orgasm. That ain't your inadequacy. But hey, if you want a second opinion, you know, you can always practice with me." Even in the darkness his leer was unmistakable.

"Hey!" Tsukushi shied away, as if from a threat, "I thought you weren't sleeping around anymore!"

"For you doc," Soujiro wheedled ingratiatingly, "I'd make an exception. Besides, you're like part of the family. It's not the same."

"Incest is better?" Tsukushi almost laughed.

"Oh yeah. That makes it kinky."

"It's a good thing I know you're not serious, otherwise I'd wonder what your friends would think of you hitting on me."

"Oh." Soujiro shrugged, "Tsukasa would kill me. If Rui didn't beat him to it, that's all. . . Although," he took on a musing tone, "If he's willing to share with Rui, maybe he could share with me too? I've never tried a 4-way before. Oh, and then there's Akira—a 5-way? Hmm. . . ."

"Scary. . ." Tsukushi found herself backing away from the oblivious playboy, who continued his idle mumblings about the potential romantic combinations of 4 men and one woman. He had to say, that even with the 4 men as close friends, the math still wasn't very satisfying. . . .

Good thing that he wasn't interested in the little doctor then, right?

And if that was good, if that was true, then why was it, that as they eventually made their way back into the empty house a while later, that Soujiro had to fight the urge to kiss Tsukushi or invite her back to keep him company in bed through the lonely night?

Must have just been all the alcohol, helping him to channel the specter of Tsukasa.

Exactly.

Yeah.

TBC


	46. ch 45 in which Tsukushi cries

Junpei was pissed off. Admittedly, he had been spending a lot of his time recently in a bad mood, but today was really pushing his limits. He couldn't explain exactly why, but all day his nerves had been on edge. Maybe it was the weather. Maybe it was the foot dragging of his lawyers, all of whom kept quitting, one after the other. Damn that motherfucking bastard Tsukasa Doumyouji to the darkest depths of hell. Damn him. Or maybe, speaking of the devil, as it were, Jun was pissed off about the letter.

What letter? Well, this one right here, on the table in front of him, shredded into a hundred little pieces. That task in itself had enraged him; the heavy feel of the thick cream-colored paper, the sound it made as he methodically ripped it apart. The two words cryptically scrawled across the page, "We Know." Know what, he'd like to ask. The fuck did those jokers mean by this? He recognized Tsukasa's writing, even without a return address. But so? A thousand indiscretions crossed through his mind, so many sins, except the one that counted. It bothered him, like an itching at his subconscious, like maybe he should feel guilty about something? But he really seriously didn't know what. His brain didn't work like that. To him, what had passed between him and Tsukushi was not his transgression. He had wanted her, she'd rejected him, he'd demanded satisfaction. And got it, sort of. Sometimes, in his darkest, most drunkenly honest moments, he could admit that he hadn't really gotten what he'd wanted. She'd never willingly given in to him, even after all the work he'd put into courting her. He'd always had to work for everything. And he hated that. No one willingly gave him anything, is what he thought, what he often sulked about. The craven unfairness of the entire world.

He remembered that Tsukushi was rejecting him now. Again. Worse, had rejected him to dally with Tsukasa, if the tabloids could be believed. How could she have rejected Jun, when Tsukasa was so obviously defective? A loutish, angry, violent drunk. Jun had thought she'd been after Rui. Maybe she was off on some bizarre power-trip. The cold bitch. Fuck one, fuck 'em all. Collect all 5! He wondered if and when Soujiro had got to her. And what of Akira?

But none of these tangents answered the current question. What the fuck was up with this letter? He finally decided that it was just ploy to throw him off balance. Mind games. And weren't those his forte?

Yes. Yes. Of course they were.

Jun bared his teeth. If they were going to play games with him, then so be it. Junpei Oribe was not a man to be trifled with.

First things first. He'd been upset that Tsukushi had so long managed to avoid him. But he'd be damned if he'd let the F4 keep something else that belonged to him. He wanted a few words with that woman, and he'd be damned if he'd let anyone stop him. She hadn't listened to flowers or phone calls, or that bimbo of a roommate, she'd never come home the nights he'd waited in the cold outside her (former) apartment. But she couldn't escape him if he visited her at work. With a grunt, Junpei shrugged his jacket on and headed for the door.

- - - - -

Tsukushi stormed home that night, where home was defined as le chez des quatre fleurs, casa F4, however you want to say, rather than anyplace she felt comfortable. Returning home should feel like sinking into your own skin. This, most certainly, did not. She'd been having a bad day already, even before Junpei had so carelessly walked into the emergency room that afternoon and demanded to speak with her. She really really needed to get a restraining order, Tsukushi reflected morosely. Just his presence set her on edge, made her feel like she was teetering on the brink, that any second she was going to fall off and shatter into a million pieces, nothing left, but for the rage inside her shattered soul to explode and damn them all. The conversation hadn't gone well, as how could it have? She couldn't even deliver another power kick to his crotch as she very much would have liked to. He left angry, hissing cruel words and threats in lieu of the pleading wheedling conciliating façade he'd strolled in with. She'd swayed, as if battered in the winds of memory, before clutching her spirit to herself, putting on her work face, reminding herself that she could step back from the edge. That she was too strong now, and too well rooted a weed to wilt after such a slight trampling. She'd spent the rest of the afternoon in such an icily grim mood that even her worst tormenters on the hospital staff knew to stay the fuck away or risk having their own heads bitten off.

So anyway, by the time she got home, Tsukushi was in a right bad mood. She wanted to take a long hot shower and scour the memory of his presence off her skin, she wanted to curl up in a bed that smelled only of her, with a book from her childhood and go to sleep remembering only the days before she'd awoken to the cold hard reality that you can't trust anyone. That the world is evil and cruel and dumb, and try as hard as you will, nothing is going to change that.

Yeah, a very bad mood. Usually she could convince herself that some things could be fixed, that she was doing good. That with her help, some people faced a brighter day. Tonight she couldn't even do that.

Instead, she took her shower, feeling oddly out of place in this bathroom filled with men's things, so different from her own more floral soaps and shampoos. She went to bed, dressed in soft old flannel pajamas. Ignoring the fact that it was only 7 pm and she'd had no dinner. But the book failed to distract, her eyes sliding off the page in frustration. Tsukushi sighed deeply, and came to a decision.

She threw off the covers, marched downstairs to the basement where the oblivious men were practicing, and slammed the door open, radiating fury. The music, such as it was, stopped, the sudden silence echoing in the air, while the 4 men stood or sat, gaping at the small woman in the doorway.

"You!" Tsukushi yelled, pointing a finger at Tsukasa. "When the hell is it going to be over? Are you ever going to resolve this fucking glorified contract dispute, or are you simply going to torture lawyers until we all fucking die of old age? When is Junpei going to be gone, out of my life? Do you have a strategy? If not, why the hell am I here, I can't even feel myself think in this place. It's not my home, and I don't belong. When is this going to be over so I can have my life back?" Screw the fact that she had no life, fuck the truth that she belonged wherever the F4 were. Goddamnit all to hell, she was tired of all this inaction. Inaction was numbing, like a long slow fall to death. The ground a long way off yet, and you can't even bring yourself to care.

"Tsukushi." Akira began placatingly, the most quick to play nursemaid.

"Mr. Mimasaka." Tsukushi snapped tartly, "Shut it. I asked him" she jerked a nod at Tsukasa.

"Damnit woman!" Tsukasa was willing to play this game, even if he had no clue what had set her off so, "What the fuck are you yelling at me for? I'm doing the best I can with what I've got available. What the hell would you have me do?"

"I would have you do your job as leader of this group. Resolve your contract dispute by whatever means." Tsukushi crossed her arms and glared at each in turn, "You refuse to take the easy way out and leave the label with rights to your music, and they aren't going to let you go without that, whatever other concessions, like not accepting Junpei, you can get. Am I right?" Tsukasa nodded. He hadn't been aware that she'd been paying that much attention.

"The problem, isn't it, is that you know, technically, you are in the wrong, that your contract gives them the right to fuck with you. Yes?"

Tsukasa nodded again, the scowl growing on his face. He of all people should have known to read the fine print more closely.

"And so all you can really do is play dirty and hope your scare tactics work until the record company finds some truly badass lawyers who don't give a shit what you blackmail them with, and then they'll take you to court or whatever, and they'll nail you, and you'll lose everything, yes?" The unsaid remainder, that Jun would win everything, as well.

"Not if I can help it." Tsukasa set his jaw stubbornly.

"Well then, if you can help it, then why are you still fighting on the defensive? You're under siege here." Metaphorically, of course, "Why don't you change the rules around?"

"What do you mean?" Now Soujiro was suspicious.

"Buy them out." Tsukushi stated as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

"The fuck you say!" Tsukasa swore as if this were the stupidest thing he'd ever heard, "Do you know how much that label is worth? They represent all the top pop groups. Have you even seen the price of their stock? Where in god's name has your brain gone to, you delusional woman?"

"Oh shut up." Tsukushi snapped again, "You've got money. If you can bribe the hospital, you can buy some fucking stock. Stop whining. Don't you have friends who can be relied on to start buying up stock, too? Surely there are some other musicians who want their freedom, eh? Maybe they too didn't read the small print, maybe they should have. Why don't you chat 'em up a bit?" Looking pointedly at Soujiro. "And you." Turning now to Akira, "You and all your actress girlfriends." (So she had been paying attention to that, too.) "Get one to sell a necklace for the cause or something." Akira sighed, didn't Tsukushi realize that his task was difficult, since most of his girlfriends were married? Husbands could overlook a few hundred dollars spent on dinner and hotel rooms, but jewelry or property, that was a different matter entirely. But, he supposed he would have to try anyway.

"Tsukasa," This time it was Soujiro who spoke up, slowly, as if against his better judgment. And as if he was trying to remember lessons he had long forgot, "If we get my friends, and Akira's to buy stock, and we do as well, it's going to look suspicious. It's going to drive the price sky high. We need to fix that." He spoke as if the words left a sour taste in his mouth, and the long measures stare he fixed Tsukasa with was loaded with meaning.

"Oh. Hmm." Tsukasa blinked once, then nodded abruptly, "I better get started on the phone calls then." Without another word, he left the room.

"So it's been decided?" Akira looked around blankly, until finally Soujiro nodded yes. Rui hadn't said a word through the entire exchange.

Tsukushi swayed, sagged, and felt suddenly very, very tired, as if all of her energy had been sucked into that one pathetic call to arms.

"Whoa! Are you ok?" It was Akira who asked, but Rui who stepped forward as if to catch Tsukushi as she swayed against the wall.

"I'm fine." She denied flatly, though she plainly wasn't, "If we're done here, I'm going back to bed."

"Yeah. You're done." Soujiro snorted, "I guess we're only just beginning."

And so they were.

Tsukushi slowly trudged back up the stairs, already feeling better, as if a great weight had been lifted from her, though that lifting left her drained and empty. Rui stared after her, as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't bring himself to. Not quite.

A long time later, however, Rui found himself paused outside Tsukushi's door, hand raised to knock. Again and Again he tried, and failed to will himself to action. What point anyway? He already felt left out of the evening's events. The other three had tasks set out for them. They were useful, and though it was not his fight, he still found himself wishing he could do something. He'd liked it better when he was indifferent. At least then he didn't care that h e was useless to everyone. Caring hurt too much. To care and not be able to do anything was worse. At last, with a heavy sigh, he did the one thing he could do.

Rui quietly opened Tsukushi's door, paced to her bed, and sat down next to the sleeping girl. She was curled up into the tightest ball he'd ever seen a human being assume. Sound asleep, but even so, her hands tensed and clenched spasmodically. Tsukushi's face, in sleep, looked even younger than when she was awake. Younger and more vulnerable. He wondered if he had ever looked so sad and so alone, the nights she'd sat up next to him, holding his hand. He wondered if it was harder to go on living when one didn't have a strong reason to. It was certainly easier to die when you didn't know why you were alive. Easier to give up fighting. He wondered if Tsukushi had ever considered up giving up fighting. He doubted it. Rui reached out slowly, and covered her small hands with his long fingers. She'd often held his hand. It had quieted his dreams. Maybe at least, he could return the favor now.

Around him, Rui could hear the quiet sounds of the nighttime house. Water in the pipes, creaking of the stairs and the hallway as the other boys went about their evening rituals and eventually retired to bed. In here, in Tsukushi's room, it was still and cool and quiet. He sat, and she slept, and the time ticked by. Almost at peace. It couldn't last. It didn't last. The door shushed open, revealing Tsukasa, backlit by the light in the hall.

"I thought I'd find you in here." He sighed quietly, and stepped forward, joining Rui on the bed. "I don't know why I didn't think of it sooner. Why she had to point it out to us. I guess, it's just a bit extreme, even for me, y'know."

"I know." Rui frowned, wondering why Tsukasa was bringing this up now.

"Anyway, I made some calls. My contacts were positively ecstatic at the mayhem we're about to unleash. It's just what the media loves, tales of a corporation gone bad. They won't ask too many questions about where the information comes from, or why it sounds like what it is, blackmail files."

"Mmmm." Rui grunted. He was more interested in other matters right now. And Tsukasa must have agreed, for he shut up, and for a while there was silence, but for the sound of breathing, as the two men watched the sad little woman they loved sleep.

"She's nothing like Shizuka, is she?" Tsukasa broke the silence once more, speaking lowly, lest he wake the deeply sleeping doctor.

"No." Rui replied shortly. His tone inferring that this was a subject he'd really rather leave alone. But Tsukasa didn't care. He'd had a thought and he was going to run with it.

"Y'know, I always thought of Shizuka as a goddess. Beautiful, powerful, untainted by the cares of the rest of us mortals. Maybe it was just because she was older, and a friend of my sister's, but she seemed like she was from another world, She knew what she wanted from life, and she was going to get it." But a goddess is also capricious, and tyrannical, and this he left unsaid. The way he had always felt that Shizuka manipulated Rui's devotion to her, playing mind games to ensure his loyalty, to test his love, while he'd heard stories from Tsubaki how Shizuka had spread her favors around when she was away. But who was going to tell Rui that? Not him, and she had been good for Rui, in a way. But still, a goddess is not for the likes of mortal man. Like fire, if you play with the gods too long, you're going to get burned. ". . .I like Tsukushi better."

"Mmm." Rui didn't deny that Tsukasa might have a point. That perhaps the reason he'd fallen for his therapist was because she was so imperfect, and so human. "She's very like Shigeru, though."

"Yes." Tsukasa scowled in agreement. "Only, Shigeru. . . she was so unafraid. Nothing scared her."

"Hah." Rui snorted, "She'd never been hurt." That too was true. Shigeru had been the first girl Tsukasa had ever loved. Many girls had tried to catch his eye before her, but he'd ignored them all, convinced they only wanted him for his looks, or for his family money. Shigeru had been the first to attract his attention. She'd literally tackled him, and berated him into a date. She'd been tenacious, and energetic, and had finally broken him down and won him over. It had helped that she'd really understood him, the way he was then, and that she didn't care about his looks or wealth. Hell, she was rich too.

"I think. . . ." Tsukasa admitted, as if he hated himself for the thought, "If I met Shigeru again now, the way she was, I'd have to admit I've grown beyond her." For Shigeru had been fearless, yes, and energetic yes, but having never been hurt, never been so alone, she wouldn't be able to relate to who he was today.

"It's ok." Rui offered, seeing how Tsukasa seemed to slump lower with each admission. "She'd understand."

Tsukasa looked up abruptly in surprise, stared Rui in the eyes, "You've decided?"

Rui shrugged eloquently, "If I'm going to be. . . here. . . there never was any choice. Even if they wouldn't forgive us. . . She'll do it for them." He glanced back at Tsukushi.

"Yeah. . ." Tsukasa sighed, "She would. . . Rui. .. What are we going to do?" Two of them: one of her. The math wasn't good.

"Whatever she wants." Rui laughed bitterly, "We need her. Does she really need us? At least you are useful. I'm just a waste of space and air."

"At least she loves you." Tsukasa retorted, "That's gotta be worth something. She doesn't even like me."

"She likes everyone." Rui denied. Clinging to his self-pity a little while longer.

"Bullshit." Tsukasa spat. "Let's prove it. Kiss her. Go ahead. See how she reacts. Then see what will happen if I try."

Rui shrugged. Why not? At worst, he'd prove his point. He could never have suspected what Tsukasa's suggestion would actually lead to,

Tsukushi had been dimly aware for quite some time, of the voices speaking above her head. But she was so very tired, and it was so much effort to follow their words. But the words wound into her dreams, so that when she awoke, she was almost aware of what was going on. Cool hands on hers, cool long fingers entwined with her own, so short and thin. Waking to the sensual feel of lips on hers, so hot, where the hands were so cold. So hot. Maybe it was all a dream, Tsukushi decided as her mind reeled. It had to be, because the only time a kiss had felt this good was. . . before. . . When she was young and innocent and Jun was still her boyfriend. . . .And. Oh god. Suddenly, the day's events came rushing back to her. Tsukushi's eyes snapped open, as her body recoiled in fear, expecting to see Jun menacing her. It only took a millisecond to take in the actual scene, Rui, looking suddenly ashamed, Tsukasa sitting behind him, a strange hunger in his eyes. The shock was still too much. Tsukushi found herself huddled against the headboard, as far as she could quickly get from the two men. She couldn't even form rational thought. She was just too far gone for that. Instead, to her ashamed horror, she found herself bursting into tears.

"Shit!" the expletive was Tsukasa's. The look of desperation, Rui's. He turned a pleading look at Tsukasa, as if to say, "This was your idea. So now what?" Tsukasa shrugged, looking more worried with every passing second, until at last Rui took action.

"Tsukushi . . ." he pled softly, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it." Carefully, as so not to startle her, he scooted closer, reached out, pried her out of her knot of misery, and gave her a shoulder to cry on. "I'm sorry," he repeated again, "Sweetheart, please, stop crying."

Tsukasa who by now had inched around behind the sobbing woman and begun to rub small comforting circles on her back, looked up, and mouthed, "Sweetheart?" over Tsukushi's shoulder, one skeptical eyebrow raised in disbelief that the undemonstrative Rui would use such a word. All he got in return, was a dark warning scowl from the man in question.

"Didn't." Tsukushi managed to hiccup a response finally, though she still hadn't allowed herself to quite acknowledge the situation she was in, being comforted by her former patients, in a most unprofessional manner. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that it's rude to assault someone when they're asleep?"

It was Tsukasa who had the bolt of inspiration to answer, "We couldn't figure out how to wake you, and you looked like you'd had a rough day. We wondered if you might like to talk about it." This time it was Rui who graced him with the skeptical look.

"Rough day?" Tsukushi's voice was muffled by Rui's shirt, "You could say that. But damnit," she felt like she was edging towards hysteria now, "Don't ever wake me like that again! What the hell is wrong with you? Are you even stupider than I thought?" Funny, how she could berate the very man whose chest she was clinging to as the tears continued to leak from her eyes.

"What happened, today?" Rui made a valiant attempt to derail her train of thought. Miracle of miracles, he actually succeeded, too.

"What happened?" Tsukushi's laugh may as well have been a sob, "What didn't happen?" She took a deep shuddering breathe, "One of my old patients—I'd known her almost as long as you, Rui, committed suicide. Her husband said she'd given up, gone off her meds, he didn't notice until it was too late. Damnit! I thought she was doing so well. I had such hopes for her. What good am I? I should have been able to save her. I thought I had. She hadn't made an attempt in almost a year." Tsukushi was crying harder again at the memory, "She just had a son."

"You can't blame yourself for everything." Tsukasa interrupted her, harshly.

"Why not? Everyone else does." Tsukushi gulped remembering the insults and accusations that had been leveled at her that morning by her co-workers, about how she should have been paying more attention instead of gallivanting around with all her celebrity friends. But she could have coped if she wasn't secretly afraid that they were right, or worse, that she would lose Rui like she'd lost her other patient. Or any of her other patients. The thought made her hold onto him all the tighter.

"We don't."

"Yeah well. Maybe you should." Tsukushi looked up, "Also, Jun visited today."

"Ah. . ." That explained her rage this evening. Her wakening panic.

"It's ok," Rui gently stroked Tsukushi's hair, "He's not here. It's only us. We would never hurt you."

"That's what he once said." Tsukushi tried to dry her tears, put her defenses back up, "Why did you kiss me?"

"I thought," Rui smiled sadly, "that the only chance I'd ever get was while you were asleep."

"Actually," Tsukasa interrupted, "I told him to. So if you're going to hit either of us, it should be me."

"Wha?" Tsukushi swiveled her head between the two of them, confusion rapidly helping to dispel her self-pity. Or maybe that was being dispelled, instead, by the growing awareness, that she was still leaning on Rui, and that he had one arm around her, but that the other hands gently rubbing her back belonged to Tsukasa. She wasn't at all sure she could cope with the surreality much longer.

"Yeah." Tsukasa sighed, "I'm sorry. It's just. . . Damnit! This just isn't going to be easy is it!" his inability to say the words on the tip of his tongue were frustrating the hell out of him. If it were a song, he could sing it. But to tell this woman how he felt about her, and risk rejection? He wasn't sure he could do that, he was afraid, and the fear made him tense and angry. He'd never thought himself a coward, but Tsukushi seemed intent on proving him wrong in all things. Fortunately, he had Rui to take up the slack for him.

"It's just that." Rui began Tsukasa's sentence again, speaking with a bemused air of not-quite-detachment, "You see, doc. We love you." He almost missed her murmured, "I know. . . but." But not quite. He hurried to interrupt her before she could say anything that he would regret. "But, what do we do? You'd have to be insane to want either of us, and I don't think I could live if you rejected me for Tsukasa. Tsukasa would kill me if you rejected him for me."

"I wouldn't!" Tsukasa's protest, ignored by both.

"So, what do we do? I tried to stay away, to respect your professionalism, but, damnit. You did this to me, if it weren't for you, I'd be dead, I don't know if that means that I owe you, or vice versa. But you're the shrink, you know that we can't let it fester. So I kissed you, because I wanted to know how it felt. Just once. To remember why I want to live."

And Tsukushi was crying again. Couldn't this wait until a day when she was feeling less overwhelmed already? Apparently not.

But it didn't matter. Tsukasa was tired of words. He wrote and sang words for a living. Right now he didn't want to deal with them. They cluttered up the landscape. Interfered where actions would speak just as well. He chose action now. Tsukasa wrapped an arm around Tsukushi's waist, between her and Rui, and leaned in closer to press small kisses to the back of her neck, actions pleading with her to give him, give them a chance, the only words he would say further, a hoarse whisper against her ear, "I love you. Let me love you now. If you want me to stop. All you have to do is tell me no. But think about it first, because if you send me away now, I may never have the nerve to try again." Tsukushi might have doubted that last, if she had the brainpower to think past the fact that he was kissing her neck, her jaw, her ear. Or the fact that a moment later, Rui blinked, shrugged, and followed his lead.

A slow seduction, cautious and gentle. Overwhelming. Tsukushi wanted to say "No." At least she thought she did. Really. She didn't even like Tsukasa! Really! And things with Rui would be just too difficult and full of emotional complications. So what if they were beautiful, and alive, and at heart good men, who for whatever reasons loved her, and it felt so unlike any of her other lovers here between them, she could hardly hold one thought together, much less remember why she'd been crying only moments before. . .No! Wrong train of thought! "This is wrong." She managed to stammer, blushing. There were Two of them! Two! How the hell was that supposed to work?

"No. . . It's right." Rui contradicted, even if he had his own doubts, "We know you, doc. You have more than enough love to go around. More than I can give, more than he can give. Together, perhaps a fraction of what you deserve."

"Ah. . " Tsukushi whimpered a while later, unable to prevent the shameful admission that fell from her lips, "I'm scared." More like, she was terrified, terrified of losing herself, terrified of what acquiescence would mean for her, for them, terrified of what it would say about the kind of person she was. terrified of letting herself feel, of inadequacy, of life, of love, of everything.

"Don't be." Tsukasa growled fiercely, an order born from his own fear, feeling his heart break. She was still afraid of him. Would she always be afraid? Almost he pulled away, almost he fled to his own cold and empty bed. He started to rise, to turn away to hide the tears pricking at his own eyes. Surprisingly, it was Tsukushi's hand on his wrist that stopped him, the apology in her eyes, that it wasn't just him, that Rui scared her too, that the whole situation terrified her. How could she remain in control of herself? She was too afraid of losing everything. Tsukasa stared into her eyes. Read the doubts writ therein, the almost desperate plea for understanding, decided to try one more time. Reached out to rasp her chin, tilt it up, kissed her the way he'd dreamed of for weeks. Feeling her resistance dropping away slowly, as if she'd never been kissed like this before. Never known that It could feel like this. So intimate, so full of promise. He'd promise her the world if only it would get her to stay with him, with them. When he released her, at last, and Rui kissed her again, she wondered with what was left of her dazed mind, how she could ever have been reminded of Jun's kisses, even when half-asleep? These were. . . She couldn't explain it. All she knew was that somehow, losing herself between these two men suddenly didn't seem like such a bad idea after all.

And even though it was clumsy, and awkward, arranging themselves on the bed, exploring bodies with curious fingers and lips and tongues, Tsukushi slowly realized that she felt safe as she never had with any of her other lovers. She couldn't explain it, whether it was her love for them, or her understanding of what had made them who they were, or their love for her, or the fact that the two men trusted one another so implicitly, that she couldn't help but follow suit. But there it was. The sweat and twine of bodies, the climax like she'd never ever felt before, all that was second to the emotional revelation. This was what love was for. The feeling of belonging. Of being home. Of being someone else's home. Together they filled each other's emptinesses. Alone, they were merely three broken adults. Funny how the sum is greater than its parts.

Funny how suffering can lead to great discoveries, how adversity can bind us together.

Tsukushi fell asleep in the center of the bed, with a long, lean body curled up on either side of her. They were all going to need showers in the morning, but for now they slept, and for Tsukushi at least, the remainder of the night passed in the most restful sleep she'd ever had. Safe in the afterglow, protected by two strong and fierce men, friends, who loved each other too much to deny either the woman they both loved, too determined to have her, to give her the love she needed, to care about any of society's rules, or even her own squeamish qualms, Or even their own for that matter. Before tonight, Tsukasa could never had imagined that he'd have been in bed with his best friend, watching that very same best friend make love to the woman he desired, and getting turned on by that display. But he couldn't deny that he'd done just that. And was proud of himself for restraining his jealousy, for her sake. For a long time afterwards, he watched Tsukushi sleep, afraid to close his eyes, lest he wake to find it all a dream, or worse, that he had done something unforgivable, to take advantage of the doctor's momentary weakness like that. He could only pray that when she woke in the morning she would not hate him, or Rui. His sister would have kicked his ass for sure, for acting so impetuously. For ignoring all the advice she'd ever given him for winning a woman's heart, and keeping it.

It was a good thing that Tsukushi wasn't at all like other woman.

This thought made Tsukasa smile, a damn good thing, indeed, before he too, followed his companions—lovers? into sleep.

TBC

. . . dum de dum. . . What? Why are you looking at me like that? Umm.. . . yeah? Oh, sorry. I couldn't help it. Y'see, I once promised someone a long time ago, that this fic would have no "romantic pairings." So here you have it. Not-a-pairing. On a related note, yeah, I've always had a problem with the topography terminology of love; triangle, square, wtf? If each person is a point, and the line between them represents the 'relationships', (where the 'relationship' is variable depending on what you are defining, say sex, or dating, or marriage, for nice concrete examples, but what about unrequited crushes, or random hookups (not quite sex) and one night stands (mad sex), do those also count? You can tell I once put far too much thought into this, trying to parse the complicated web that resulted from watching people in college), then 2 guys after the same girl is a love angle, (M- F -M) likewise, a string of crushes is also an angle (M- F- M). you only get a triangle, by closing the loop, with the guys also having a thing going on. A true 3-way. Which the scene above isn't quite by strict definition, as trust me, no way in hell are Tsukasa and Rui going to have sex with each other. So odd geometry is difficult, b/c it always requires at least one homosexual interaction. Squares are easier in a hetero-world: M1-F1-M2-F2-M1. pyramids: 3-4 M vs 1 F. tetrahedrons: 4 of anything, all possible combos. Ye gods! Lets stick to planar loops shall we? I've been understress recently, this ch also has an alternate ch. I think perhaps I'll start posting the alternates on ff(dot)net. Maybe. Until next time. . . cm. . .


	47. ch 46 in which tsukushi watches the news

The next morning, Tsukushi woke. In denial. Mad total serious mega denial. She hadn't! She couldn't have! No.

The evidence was, however, pretty much irrefutable. She was still naked. But more to the point, there were undeniably two very naked men in bed with her. In point of fact, one of them (Tsukasa) was Very closely snugged up against her back. And Someone's hand (Rui's) was draped around her waist. If someone hadn't kicked the covers off sometime in the night, she'd be stifling hot. Instead, she merely had a stiff neck. Sleeping sandwiched between two people isn't Really that comfortable.

Oh god. Tsukushi cringed, What on earth had she been thinking? Desperately, she reviewed the night's activities. She couldn't believe she had let them. . . do that. How could she ever look anyone in the eye again? How could she expect anyone to respect her after that? How could she respect herself? Her only consolation, and it was a small one, was that she hadn't Actually had sex with Tsukasa. Just Rui. Though she doubted technicalities mattered in a situation like that. Sex with one of her patients was bad enough. Even worse, that a second had actually been present. Far worse, that it had been Tsukasa. Valiantly, she strove to convince herself of what she had so long believed true, that she didn't like him, couldn't stand him, and that everything last night had been a huge mistake. Desperately, she tried to shut out the memory of his eyes, watching her, the intense hunger in them. She could tell, he'd wanted her so badly. She remembered that look, long ago in Junpei's eyes. But Tsukasa, he'd pulled back, contenting himself with a few kisses and caresses, as if aware that she wasn't yet ready to give herself to him. It looked as though it had pained him, when Rui had coaxed her into accepting his own advances. Tsukushi almost panted at the memory. She'd done a terrible thing. To have allowed a former patient to seduce her. And she'd liked it! The only time she could remember, that sex had been good. How could it have felt so right when it was so patently Wrong? She couldn't let it happen again.

Suddenly, Tsukushi dreaded the waking of the men beside her, the awkwardness of it all. She had to flee before they regained consciousness. Flee so that she could clear her head and try to make sense of the confusion bubbling through her mind.

Gingerly, she disentangled herself, hardly daring to breathe, lest she wake either man. Fortunately, they both slept deeply. Rui, because he was a heavy sleeper, Tsukasa, because he had woken before dawn, a new song in his head, and slipped out of bed to write it down. Eventually, he'd returned, to slip back into bed, and watch over the woman who inspired him. It had taken him a long time to fall back asleep. So he was justified in sleeping in now.

With a sigh of relief, Tsukushi managed to set her feet to the floor, hastily grabbed some clothes from the closet, and beat a hasty retreat to the bathroom. She was gone from the house before anyone else had awoken.

- - - - - - -

When Akira awoke, the house was eerily quiet. Usually Tsukasa was up by now, stomping around and making noise. But there was nothing. How bizarre. He nudged Soujiro awake.

"Hey, listen, something's not right. It's too quiet."

"Hah." Soujiro snorted, without lifting his head from the pillow, "You say that Now."

"Wha?" Akira sat up, shoving Soujiro aside. "What are you talking about?"

"Ungh. Bastard." Soujiro pulled the blankets closer to him, "Why are you getting up? It's nice in bed."

"Going to go see what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong. Dumbass. If you hadn't gone to sleep so early last night, you would've heard why it's so quiet now. Nocturnal Activities can be quite tiring, you know." The house was old, the walls were thin, sound carried well. Soujiro had eavesdropped quite awhile last night, been vastly amused.

"Will you stop being so damned oblique?" Akira couldn't think straight without his morning coffee.

"Fine. Damnit." Soujiro sighed, and rolled out of bed, "Come check this out. If nothing else, maybe I'll see if I won the bet."

"Not a chance." Akira laughed, and followed Soujiro out the door. Somehow he was unsurprised when Soujiro stopped outside Tsukushi's closed door.

"Ready?" Akira nodded, and with a sly grin, Soujiro slowly opened the door to reveal the scene. Tsukushi long since gone, but the men remained. Somehow, their clothes had ended up in a random heap on the floor.

"Oh." Akira snorted. Then began laughing as the implications struck him. Soon he couldn't stop. "They didn't?" he choked out in between the laughter.

"'Fraid so." Soujiro nodded.

"Oh man. I never would have thought any of them had it in them. . ."

"Well." Soujiro mused, "I did tell her to jump them. . . I didn't mean at the same time though." Akira's laughter doubled, only to be cut short, when he realized that Tsukasa had woken and was glaring at him.

"Do you mind? Some of us are trying to sleep, here?"

"Hah! I knew it!" Anything further Tsukasa might have been about to say was interrupted by Soujiro's triumphant shout, "Akira, you owe me 50$" He was pointing to the pile of discarded clothing, more specifically, to the fancy lace underwear tangled up with the boy's boxers, "I knew she'd keep wearing the stuff Tsukasa bought her."

It wasn't long before Soujiro and Akira found themselves being hurled bodily from the room by an enraged, and still naked Tsukasa, who had suddenly realized he didn't like the idea at all, of other men snooping around his Tsukushi's underwear. Though, it must be admitted, that perhaps part of his anger stemmed from the chill in the pit of his stomach at the fact that Tsukushi had snuck out on them—had felt she needed to sneak out on them. And suddenly he was afraid, again, that he might have acted in too much haste, and had thereby lost his chance for something real. But what could he do now, but wait and find out how the dice had landed. When, or if, she returned home tonight.

- - - - -

Tsukushi spent the morning in a daze, stumbling through morning rounds, preoccupied with her own issues. Almost desperate enough to call Yuki and ask her for advice. Almost, but not quite. She could hardly dare think about her actions, much less attempt to explain to another. At heart, Tsukushi had always been quite the prude. Her experience with Jun had only neuroticized her natural tendencies. So that she could ever be involved in something as kinky as a threesome had really never occurred to her. She couldn't even think about it without blushing. Fortunately, no one at the hospital noticed her rosier-than usual cheeks, or cared enough to mention it. That was how ostracized she was in her daily life.

The one high point of her day, if any, was the scene she noticed on TV when walking past an empty waiting room that afternoon. The set was on to CNN, and it was obvious that the phone calls Tsukasa had been making last night had borne fruit. So fast! Tsukushi moved closer and turned up the sound.

". . . Analysts everywhere are already calling it the Enron of the music industry. It's been only two hours since the first reports reached us, and already you can hear the rats scurrying for the woodwork. At this moment, it's unclear how accurate the reports are, or who ordered the independent investigation, but our insider sources tell us that the high echelons of management have been closeted all morning attempting damage control.

"So far, we've seen accusations of misuse of company funds at the highest level. Everyone expects excesses from the music industry, but this list of expenditures over the past year is pretty ridiculous. I'm sure that the shareholders expect better, than that their dividends be spent on. . . . 100 strippers for the CEO's 65th birthday party?

"And speaking of stocks, share prices began plummeting almost as soon at the first reports hit our newsroom. At least in this scandal, I'm sure there will be no allegations of insider trading to bandy around. No one could have expected this. . ."

The scene cut back to the newsroom, where the anchor sat, looking appropriately grim, "Mega Records is the label for some of the country's most popular singers, including the world renowned F4. Which, speaking of scandals, canceled their much-touted spring tour, citing artistic differences. Our insiders at Mega records report that, in fact, the group has been engaged in a protracted contract dispute with the company. What is unusual, is the nature of this dispute, as well as the fact that neither side has agreed to a compromise. Sales of the F4's last album have plummeted 60 in the months since they went off tour. Our correspondent in the Northeast paid a visit to the group's front man, Mr. Tsukasa Doumyouji, to ask him how he thought these new reports might affect his group's relationship with their label. In addition to being front man for the F4, Mr. Doumyouji is the estranged heir to the Doumyouji corporation, the parent company for such well-known household names as. . . ."

Tsukushi tuned out the rest of the newcaster's words, until the scene cut again, this time to the front steps of their house. It must be a slow news day. Tsukushi was sure that news vans trundling around the neighborhood would not exactly do good things to the F4's already strained relations with their neighbors. Tsukasa was standing there, glaring at the camera, and looking impassively furious at having been disturbed in his stronghold.

"Mr. Doumyouji, what do you think of these recent allegations of Mega Record's misuse of funds?"

Tsukasa shrugged, "What are you asking me for? I can't say I'm surprised. All large corporations are, at heart, the same, no matter what the industry. If there's enough money involved, there will be corruption. You know the saying, power corrupts. Money is power. It's inevitable. Look too closely anywhere, you will find the rot."

"That's a very negative attitude. Has it been informed by your experiences with your own family's holdings?"

"I haven't spoken to my family in over five years." Tsukasa's glare could have frozen helium. "I don't think that's relevant." He didn't deign to lie, not even to deny it.

"How does this scandal affect your own dispute with Mega Records?"

"One way or the other, I'm sure our artistic differences will be resolved." Obviously, Tsukasa had had a little prompting beforehand. Tsukushi wondered if the F4 had an agent or a publicist. She could imagine the infuriating man driving them away in record time. She wondered how long a publicist would stay sane around the mercurially temperamental group. Not long, she bet. Tsukasa could drive a stone to fits.

"I'm sure. Do you have anything else you'd like to share with our viewers?" Yeah, it was definitely a slow news day, if they were stooping to pasting up Tsukasa's pretty face for this long. Even Tsukushi had to admit, that, even when angry, he did look good. And god, she hated herself for making that admission.

Tsukasa looked briefly annoyed that the interview wasn't over, then shrugged, as if to say, the hell with it all, and responded, "Yeah." He paused, took a breath, let it out, began again, "I'm an alcoholic. Twenty-nine days of sobriety. How's that for a quote?" with that, he turned on his heel and went back inside the house, slamming the door behind him.

Tsukushi wasn't sure if she should laugh or cry. She knew somewhere along the line, she'd once yelled at him that he needed to admit he had a problem before it could be solved. But all she had meant was to admit it to himself. Saying it on National TV, was a bit drastic, even for him. Obviously the reporter was a bit stunned as well, as the camera caught him gaping like a landed trout for a brief second before he collected himself, "Well, there you have it. Back to you Stan." As the camera cut back to the newsroom once more, Tsukushi let herself sag into one of the uncomfortable seats in the waiting room. Twenty-nine days? Had it really been that long since she'd moved in with the F4? It felt like only a few days, a week. But No. She recollected herself, summer was in full swing outside, they were due for their first heat wave any day now. A month since she'd admitted to the F4 that she had a problem, and its name was Junpei. She felt almost like Tsukasa had been trying to send her a message with that interview, even if he had no way of knowing that she'd see it. A message that he was trying, that she shouldn't be so hasty to disregard all that had passed between them.

But no. She didn't want to think of it now.

And soon, she didn't have the time to think, anyway, as the afternoon brought with it, an unexpected surge of patients. Then, afternoon faded to evening, and still she could not return home to face the music, as it were, because she was on call that evening, and couldn't have slipped away from the ER to head home even if she had desperately

wanted to. It wasn't until 11 pm, that Tsukushi at last was able to drive wearily home, drag herself in the door, and slouch into the kitchen to see what, if any, leftovers she could scrounge from the fridge. She was so exhausted that even after the microwave dinged, she still sat slumped in one of the kitchen chairs, staring at the appliance, as if it could feed her, as well as heat her food.

"You left us." She could barely muster the energy to turn and face the source of that soft accusation. Rui. looking about as bad as she felt. He'd spent the day locked in his room, fighting with himself. If Tsukushi turned him down, if she rejected him, then what had he betrayed Shizuka for? For nothing. It was hard enough trying to turn his back on the ghost of what he'd lost, without learning that he'd done it for nothing. Rui wasn't strong like that. He couldn't get by alone. And the F4 just weren't enough.

"Rui. . ." Tsukushi sighed, and groped for words. She'd known better than to mix work with relationships with roommates. Hell, everyone knew these truisms: don't fuck your patients, don't fuck your friends, don't fuck your housemates. Rui was a patient and a housemate and maybe even a friend. It may have felt good at the time, but it was a mistake. As this churning unhappiness in her gut was vividly reminding her. "I had to go to work. Rui, try to understand. Last night. . ."

"Don't say it!" He gripped her shoulder urgently, desperately, refusing to let her say those damning words hanging on the tip of her tongue, that it had all been a huge mistake. If it was a mistake, then he was a fool. And what was he living for now? If it was a mistake, he may as well succumb to the drug cravings that lingered on, even now. Addiction cannot be cured, only battled. He'd been fighting the battle for her sake. But if she didn't want him, then why bother fighting? "Don't say it." He repeated again, moving closer, kneeling on the floor next to her chair, wrapping his arms around her waist, burying his head against her side, "Please. Don't say it." The words unspoken, please give us a chance, don't end this before it's truly begun.

Tsukushi froze, felt her jaw click shut without any conscious input from her. She didn't say it. Instead, she gingerly lifted one hand and gently ran it through Rui's messy hair, feeling the soft strands against her fingers, letting the sensation calm them both. All he was asking for was time. For her not to compound a mistake by overreacting. Not to make a hasty decision. She could do that, maybe. But, "It's not just you. . ." she murmured quietly, knowing that he'd understand.

"He's my best friend." Rui's voice was muffled by her body, "He never gave up on me. . .."

"I know." Tsukushi closed her eyes, "But. . ." This was hard enough to cope with when she still couldn't sort out her feelings for the man. At least she knew she was in love with Rui. She'd fallen for him, for no good reason at all, after only a few of their sessions, back when he'd been nothing but a recalcitrant junkie off the street. Tsukasa was a much more thorny problem.

"Talk to him." Rui pled, quietly, "I can wait." He hoped. He thought he could. He would have to.

"I'll try." Tsukushi promised dubiously, thinking on how most of her and Tsukasa's conversations tended to devolve into shouting matches. Yet another reason to run away screaming from a relationship with him. As if there was any way her sanity was going to escape intact from any of this.

At her words, Rui merely tightened his hold on her, knowing that that was as good an answer as he was going to get at the moment. It would have to be enough. He would have to make the memory of this embrace last long enough to get him through, as long as it took to win her over. He sure hoped Tsukasa had a plan, because it was all he could do, right now, to hold on to her, with her hands in his hair and on his back, and keep her from abandoning him to the numbing voices that tugged at his memory, threatening to drag him back from the life to which he'd so recently awoken.

- - - -

An eternity later, or maybe only thirty minutes, Tsukushi found herself staggering, alone, up the stairs towards her bed, only a distant nagging in the back of her mind telling her that she'd forgotten her dinner in the microwave. Two nights without eating was not doing good things to her mental state. Cautiously, she pushed open the door to her bedroom, as if afraid of what she might find.

Tsukushi blinked. Her bed was made. She'd bet anything the sheets had even been washed. Oh god. Her pajamas, and yes, her panties too, lay neatly folded on top. She'd bet almost anything that it Hadn't been Tsukasa or Rui who'd done that. They weren't domestic enough. As if the whole situation wasn't embarrassing enough without Akira and Soujiro interfering. Her gaze flicked in disbelief to the packages sitting next to the bed. Victoria's secret. She was so going to kill whomever purchased whatever was in those bags. As soon as she got her strength back. Maybe in the morning. After she'd slept. Tsukushi sighed, kicked her shoes off, and almost fell into bed, too tired even to put the light out, or change into her pajamas. It was enough to strip to her underwear and crawl under the blankets. She was asleep almost instantly.

Unfortunately, her mood was unsettled enough, and her stomach empty enough, that she awoke a mere three hours later, starving, and with a splitting headache. Nothing for it, but to get up for a three-am snack, and hope that she could get back to bed in time to make more sleep worthwhile.

Quietly, Tsukushi slipped on her pajamas and snuck downstairs to re-microwave the leftovers she'd forgotten earlier. At this hour of the morning, the house seemed dark and lonely, and far too big. No wonder she'd always preferred apartments. More cozy and manageable. More like a safe nest where she felt secure from the shit and nonsense the world threw at her. She didn't feel safe here at all, with the creaking stairs, and the gurgling pipes, and the wind in the trees and the emotional tension that never ever seemed to let up. Even now, in the middle of the fucking night, she couldn't get a break.

Tsukushi had just stepped back into her room, and reached to switch off the light, when she realized that she wasn't alone. Tsukasa turned back from staring out of her window to fix her with his penetrating gaze.

"We need to talk." Tsukushi had been expecting him to utter those words, but did it have to be now?

"So talk." She glared, and eyed her bed longingly. Three-thirty in the morning was time for sleep. Not talk.

Tsukasa crossed the room in a few swift steps, and took Tsukushi's shoulders in his hands, so that she couldn't turn away. "Tsukushi. Damnit woman! Why do you make everything so difficult?"

"Me?" She couldn't help but be startled at this accusation, "How the hell is it my fault? If life were up to me, none of this would have happened."

"What?" Tsukasa sneered, "All of this? You'd have never met Rui, He'd be dead on the street. I'd probably be in jail for killing someone in a drunken rage," (Yes, no one else had known, but he'd been getting that bad,) "Soujiro would be fucking everything that moved, and Akira would be driving himself crazy trying to keep us together. Is that what you want?"

"No!"

"Then what? You'd like us to go back to our assigned places, never break free of the little boxes you've categorized us into? So we can stop disturbing your precious piece of mind? You want to be living with your bimbo of a former roommate, alone, friendless, and unhappy?"

Almost, Tsukushi wanted to say yes. At least things had been simple then, but Tsukasa wasn't about to let her interrupt, not when he was just getting into his rant. "Well, I'm sorry, Doctor," he sneered the word, "But that's not going to happen. I won't let you go." He was almost shouting now.

"And you have a say, why?" Tsukushi broke in furiously, hating when others tried to control her. Didn't he understand by now, why she couldn't let others run her life? "Even If I make mistakes, At least they're my mistakes. You don't own me. You have no right to tell me how to live. I don't belong in your world. I never did. I don't belong here. You don't need me anymore. As it is, I'm just in your way. You don't need to let me go. You never had me."

Tsukasa glared, saw the fear in her eyes, the fear fueling her anger. He closed his eyes, tried to let his own anger flow out. Failed. God, he really wanted a drink. ". . . For one moment," He murmured almost inaudibly, "One moment, last night, I thought I might have. . . ." His eyes snapped back to Tsukushi's face, his volume raising with ever word, "But it wasn't so, was it? Just because I love you, doesn't mean you feel the same. It doesn't mean that you give a flying fuck about me, or about Rui? Does it? It's always about you. You're too frightened of life to actually try living for once. So go ahead, make your own mistakes, but remember, that you're not the only one here who's going to suffer the consequences. . . . So I dare you, instead, to try something different. Get over yourself. Get over that asshole Jun. Stop fucking seeing him every time you look at me, and don't try to deny it. I'm not him, and never have been. Nor will I ever be. So tell me, doc, if you tried, could you do it? Could you ever love a man like me?" His tone was rough, demanding, not quite a plea. But now, it mellowed, becoming more introspective, "If Rui, why not me? What you see is what there is. You have my heart, I haven't much else to offer. Violent, aggressive, drunk, a fool for loving you. Even now, you look like my touch is poisonous." He let go of her shoulders, "Tsubaki was right." He laughed a bitter, mirthless laugh, "I never did know how to win a woman's heart. Even Rui does a better job than me. Even Rui." With an effort, he shook his head, pulled himself together, "Think about it. You belong here. Rui needs you. I need you. But if you tell me, that you can't ever love me, then that's it. I'll go. No matter what, you should stay with Rui. But think first. Think hard, damnit, before you break my heart, 'cause I don't think I can pick up the pieces again. . . .I want you Dr. Tsukushi Makino. I want you so badly it hurts. I don't know how you did this to me, and I don't especially care. But Believe me when I say, I want you so badly, I'm willing to share you with Rui. If that's what it takes. I want. . . But what I want doesn't mean shit. I can't do this meaningless sex thing like everyone else around here seems to be able to," (Almost, it sounded like an accusation.) "I want to make love to you, you stupid, frustrating woman, but I can't do that unless you love me back. Unless you tell me you want me." With an effort, Tsukasa unfisted his clenched hands, and turned away, "I won't even bother you again, until you give me an answer. I don't expect you to love me now, but I want to know. Do you think you ever could? That's all. Think about it." Brusquely, before Tsukushi could even possible frame any response to that soliloquy, Tsukasa spun on his heel and left the room, as if embarrassed by his own speech. Or as if fearing a thoughtless rejection.

Tsukushi stood a few moments longer, staring at the door, still feeling the bruises from where he'd gripped her shoulders too tightly. She could feel herself shaking, and was surprised that no tears were leaking from her eyes. Maybe she was just too damned tired to cry. Right now, she just craved sleep. But that luxury would prove hard to come by, and Tsukushi watched the hours until dawn crawl by with agonizing slowness until she could begin another weary day on the wards.

In the darkness of his own room, Tsukasa sat and cursed himself for a fool, probably having scared her off for good, with that little performance. Hadn't his sister beaten it into him often enough that you can't win a girl by being an overbearing lout? He'd never learned that lesson well, and Shigeru had never cared that he was short tempered and surly, she'd thought it was cute and sexy. And since she died, he'd never had to be any other way. He didn't know how else to be, any more than Tsukushi knew how to trust. God, he missed his sister. She would have known just what to do now. And if he'd still had Shigeru, he wouldn't even be in this situation. Hell and damn, he missed them. Already, he missed Tsukushi too, and she wasn't even gone.

"She'll come 'round." It was Rui, creeping in later (the entire house of course, having been privy to the excessively loud argument) "She has to." Reassuring himself, as much as Tsukasa.

"I screwed up." Tsukasa, denying.

"She'll get over it."

"She doesn't forgive anyone anything." Tsukasa insisted, petulantly.

"That's where you're wrong." Rui replied quietly, sitting on the bed next to Tsukasa, "She forgives everyone, everything. Except herself." It wasn't Jun that Tsukushi hated and feared. It was herself, and her own weakness. The fact that she'd fallen for a man like him, let herself be misled, allowed herself to fall for a man that could hurt her so. If Jun would have stayed out of her life thereafter, he would have stayed forgotten, and well on the way towards being forgiven.

"I just don't know what to do." Tsukasa looked down at his hands in frustration. Wanting to break something. Someone.

"Now," Rui sighed, "We wait."

TBC.

- - - What, you didn't seriously think it was going to be that simple, did you? Hah! Have you ever actually tried a 3-person relationship? It's a lot more complicated than a simple sexual threesome (not that I'd know from personal experience, since I can't even get 1 boyfriend, much less 2). And speaking of people who write about 3somes involving all possible positions and all that nonsense, I often get the distinct impression that those people haven't the faintest idea what they're talking about. I mean really. 2 people having sex is silly looking enough in reality, 3? even good pornoflicks can't make it look comfortable. Let's just not go there. The one impression I've always gotten from reliable sources (ie, people I believe actually have experience in 3waysex, or in a few cases, 3waymakeoutandgropefests for the less adventurous, or more stoned), is that, really, most 3somes aren't that great. Like, a fairly 'common' scenario, where a couple convinces a friend (usually female) to hook up with them, the friend tends to get left out while the couple ends up having sex in the end, sometimes the 2 girls get to put on some lesbian action for the bf, but unless you're gay, that doesn't sound so exciting to me, and rarely does the guest actually have sex with the guy. I don't think any of my gossip providers have ever mentioned 2 guys and a girl, since most straight guys are too homophobic and or jealous to deal. Maybe I just don't know the right people. Oh, and the absolute worst 3way ever, is when 2 people try to hook up with the one they both have a crush on, at the same time. Whatever the romantic notions this fic has foisted upon such a scenario, don't believe it for a second. No good can come of the 2-way-crush-3-way. Someone is always going to feel left out. Though, I do believe three way relationships can work. Don't ask me how, but I know some people who have pulled it off. Though one of my (more conservative) medical friends would have me believe this situation somehow still results in psychological trauma, as do casual sex3ways, and that trauma is supposedly going to manifest itself in poor child-rearing practices. (I've been trying to get the book from the guy for months, so I can read where he pulled these theories from for myslf). Ok, this was a way too long note, poorly written, on a topic I'm sure most people don't actually want to read. So here's a note you might. It was indeed, in one of my original plans, that Tsukushi hook up with all 4 of the f4 by the end of the fic. Yeah, I'm crazy. Unfo, she was supposed to hit Soujiro before Tsukasa/rui. so shit. 'cause like, now. It don't make sense. Damnit. Mybeautiful plan! Sniffle. So dead. . . .or is it? In other news, my thesis is approximately 260 pages, (and not done yet). I'm defending in 2.5 weeks, and running off to a conference immediately thereafter. Holy fucking shit, my thesis needs to be done by Friday. Also I need to put my seminars together. I fucking hate powerpoint. I hate even more, trying to make my work comprehensible. If it drives my committee to fits, it's going to bore my audience to tears. And I'm missing my 5 yr college reunion to stress about it. Waaahh. Curdled feels like whining tonight. A lot. And despite the not quite a rant above, she wants a threesome with a couple of hot guys.


	48. ch 47 in which the moon rises

Another day. The next day, in fact.

Tsukushi hauled ass out of bed, and blindly went through her morning ritual. She was still so damned tired. And a slight soreness in the back of her throat warned her that if she kept pushing herself at this rate, she was going to get sick. Summer colds were the worst. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, Tsukushi decided that this morning was a good one for running. Maybe the extra endorphins would help to perk her up. It was still cool outside, and she didn't have to be at work for another hour and a half. A quick run would do her good. She hadn't exercised in so long, caught up as she was in the trials of her daily life, that Tsukushi was quickly winded, and slowed to a jog for the remainder of her loop. By the time she returned home, she was already late for the hospital, and she still needed a shower. Damn. So much for praying for goodwill from her co-workers. And the run hadn't helped the tiredness, or the ache in her head.

As Tsukushi finally got into her car, clutching her second cup of coffee of the day, she realized today was not going to be any improvement on the last. And that was saying a lot. But what could she do? Tsukushi heaved a sigh, turned the volume way up in her car, rolled up the windows, and let out an ear splitting primal scream, stretched, repeated. By the time she arrived at the hospital, her voice was hoarse, her headache was nearly blinding, but she was read to face the day, to soldier on. Now was the time for patients. Tonight, she'd deal with her own problems. Tonight, she'd leave early, find someplace quiet and alone, and think. Just think. Until she knew – what was right for her. What decision could she make that would allow her to remain true to herself, to not burden herself with more regrets, to not hurt anyone else any more than necessary. If such a thing were even possible.

- - - -

For themselves, the F4 kept busy that day. Tsukasa was on the phone scheming with accountants and with his private investigators/ blackmailers. Akira was calling up his girlfriends, and making plans to fly out wherever they lived, (or wherever they chose where husbands or boyfriends would not find out). Soujiro too, spent the afternoon making calls. But his were to old friends and acquaintances, other bands they'd toured with. Soujiro was a master of networking, had been great at meeting people, chatting them up, finding out what made them tick. Getting them to do favors for him was just another kind of seduction. Easy, once you knew the tricks.

"You know," Tsukasa commented irritably, over lunch, "We're not actually going to have a majority voting share, ourselves. We can't afford it."

"Yeah," Soujiro agreed, dragging old business skills to the forefront of his brain, "But, with all our friends, we should be able to get a majority coalition together. You know, the vast majority of stockholders are just random people holding a few shares here and there as part of their portfolios. They never go to the stockholders meetings. They could care less how the company is run. They probably don't even know they own it. And if your scare-tactics continue to cause stock to nosedive, their investment companies will be rushing to sell. Whoever's not selling, is going to be the bad guys. You know, the ones in charge. When they realize Mega records is a sinking ship, and they will, in a week or a month, they'll dump too. What's left then will be us. Us, our buddies, and a whole bunch of people who believe in buying whatever's cheapest on the market in hopes that someday they can sell at a profit. And damn, have you ever been to a stockholder's meeting in a company that's going down? My dad dragged me once. It's mayhem. Anyone who can impose order is going to look good. That's us. That's our friends. We'll have a plan for the company. And orders for the CEO (assuming you're not planning on getting rid of him? Oh. You are? Even better). Who cares if it's a coalition, rather than a bloc? It'll get the job done."

"Tsukasa just worries," Akira broke in.

"Too many variables." Tsukasa growled, "I'd feel better if we were firmly in control."

"Dude, no one's just going to give us their stock options. No matter how worthless they are. Just 'cause you don't have people skills, you're afraid of fucking up. Don't worry so much. You provide the intimidation, I'll provide the grease." Soujiro grinned, "Between us, no one's gonna know what hit them, until they're eating out of the palm of our hand."

"Singing to our tune," Akira jumped in.

"Dancing to our rhythm," Soujiro laughed.

"We'll be pulling their strings."

"Leading them like lambs to the slaughter."

"Fuck! I get it, I get it already!" Tsukasa shouted.

"We'll be fine." Akira clapped Tsukasa on the shoulder, "No Way are we losing this."

"And speaking of losing." Soujiro smoothly transitioned, "Give the doc some breathing room, would you? Unless you want to lose her too."

"Fuck off."

"I'm just trying to help."

"Well, you're not." Tsukasa glared his tension around the room in warning, and stomped off to go to the basement and pound out his stress on the drums. Something he'd not done in a while. He wasn't the most patient of men. Waiting, even a day, for an answer, was agony. It couldn't be easy on Rui either.

- - - -

Tonight, when Tsukushi got off work, she had the sense to stop and grab dinner at a convenient café before heading home. So nice to be able to eat without one of the F4 sneaking up on her, assaulting her fragile mental balance. More and More, Tsukushi was reflecting on how nice it would be to have a friend. A real friend. Someone to confide in, someone who understood her concerns and could offer useful advice. Or maybe, she thought with a snort, she just needed her own therapist. Yuki was no help. She meant well, but was too terminally blindsided by idealistic optimism to relate to Tsukushi. And Rui and Tsukasa wanted to help, but they, obviously, were part of the problem. So how could she talk to one of them? Plus any of their actions were suspect from the get-go. Ulterior motives and all that. Akira and Soujiro were their friends too, so right there, anything they said was also liable to be biased. Almost, Tsukushi wished that her ex-boyfriend Amon was around. He of all people had come closest to understanding her fears. But he was too self-absorbed and cold-hearted to quite get it. And besides, he was a young hot-shot surgeon now. He wouldn't approve of liaisons with rock-stars in the first place. He wouldn't think them good enough for her. It was too bad, Tsukushi sighed, that it was the opposite that was probably true. She wasn't good enough for them. For even one of them.

With reflections like these, it was no wonder that Tsukushi sought solitude when she arrived home. The day had been hot, and the evening was still warm and humid. Tsukushi thought a moment, on where to hide. She hadn't the energy to go out somewhere, but no where in the house would remain private for long. Perhaps. . .the roof?

Tsukushi quietly snuck indoors, prowled upstairs, grateful for the respite that the group's noisy practice down in the basement provided her. She stopped in her room, changed into jeans, grabbed a blanket, and headed for the attic. The house was an old Victorian style, and she thought, if she could get up above the gables, there should be a flat top, at least judging by the shape of the attic. Gingerly, she pried open a window, suffered a moment of panic as she levered herself sideways onto the steep shingles, and took a deep shuddering breath when she realized that she wasn't going to fall. Great. Thank god for tarred shingles. Lots of friction. Even better, when she levered herself up over the gable, the rooftop was indeed flat, and recently redone with a rubber top. It was wide enough that she wouldn't fall off, and couldn't be seen from the ground. Perfect. Tsukushi spread out her blanket, stretched and lay back to watch the sun set and the full moon rise. A perfect summer's evening, if only it weren't for the turmoil in her own mind. But laying up here, feeling the day's warmth seeping out of the rooftop into her own tired body—it helped. It helped a lot. And the longer she lay up there, hearing the hum of the city spread out around her, the more relaxed she became. Breathing in the humid summer air, watching the sky darken, until at last, she fell asleep.

She should have known that Tsukasa would panic when she never made an appearance that evening. He'd known she didn't have to work late that night. And he'd been counting down the hours until her reappearance. Six pm, that's when she was supposed to return. By 630 he was getting twitchy. By 7, he was pacing. By 730, he'd realized her car was parked out on the street. By 8, he was getting ready to tear the house apart, and even Rui couldn't calm him down. In an attempt to appease Tsukasa before he went berserk, the other three agreed to help look for the missing doctor. Akira suspected that if her car were home, then Tsukushi had to be somewhere around. So he very cleverly sent Tsukasa to go check out her favorite haunts outside the house and around the city.

It was Soujiro who found the open window in the attic, who climbed up on to the roof and found the sleeping woman. She looked so peaceful there, that he decided not to call Tsukasa quite yet. Why increase the strife? Tsukasa would be sure to return home ranting and raving, and that sure as hell wouldn't help improve his position in the doctor's eyes any. Instead, Soujiro quickly and quietly snuck back inside, grabbed a second blanket and returned to the roof to watch over the somnolent doctor. He didn't question his own motives. It just seemed to be the thing to do, to brush her hair back from her face, to lay the extra blanket over her, and sit back, propped up against the chimney, watching the clouds shift across the night sky. He'd almost begun to doze off, himself, when Tsukushi woke.

"Soujiro?" She was clearly startled, "How long have you been there?"

"Awhile." He shrugged, and scooted over to where Tsukushi had twisted around to stare at him.

"Bah. I'd hoped to find at least one spot no one else knew about." She frowned briefly, and sat up.

"Next time. Close the window." Soujiro teased, "It is nice up here, though, isn't it?"

"Mmhhmm." Tsukushi agreed, but was taken aback when Soujiro stretched out next to her, arms crossed behind his head, and closed his eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Taking a break. . . What? You weren't planning on going back down so soon were you? Don't worry. Tsukasa's not home. We sent him out to look for you. He'll call before he comes back. Plenty of warning to get down from here. So come on. Chill with me. My company's not that unbearable, is it?"

Tsukushi stared at him for a long moment. Judging what motives lay hidden in his shadowed eyes. At last she nodded, and settled herself back down onto the roof, acutely aware of the warm body. Warm male body. Lying so near her. Almost she shivered in the cool night air, but got a grip on her wandering mind before she could get out of control. Focused on the moon, and the wind in the trees, and the hum of passing cars. Long minutes passed in silence. Even the usually talkative Soujiro seemed disinclined to conversation. For a while at least.

"So. . ." he finally began, "What is going on between you three, exactly?"

Tsukushi sighed. She'd been expecting this. But somehow, it almost felt natural to relax, and just answer his question. As if he were the confidant she'd been looking for. "I don't know."

"Tsukasa's my friend." Soujiro continued, as if he wasn't listening to her, "So, you may not want to take my advice, but it doesn't hurt to talk about it, at least."

"It's not just Tsukasa."

"Yeah. But we already know you like Rui. Haven't we been over this before? A few days ago, in fact."

"That doesn't really help." Tsukushi sighed, "And besides. Even if I knew what I wanted. . . their feelings are suspect."

"Huh?"

"It's a common problem in medicine. Especially psych. Usually more in grief counseling. I don't see it that often, since in emergency psych we don't always have that many long-term patients, except for those with negative outcomes. But it still happens occasionally." She sighed again, giving Soujiro the opportunity to interject,

"What is? Is this something to do with the 'psycho stalker patients' you mentioned?"

"Yeah, those are kind of an extreme form." Tsukushi's voice took an almost didactic tone as she continued, "Basically, a patient thinks they're in love with their therapist, when really it's just gratitude. The psychiatrist is the one who's been working with the patient, teaching them to cope with their grief and their negative feelings, so, when they start feeling better, the patient associates this with something the psychiatrist has done, who the psychiatrist is, rather than accepting that healing comes from inside as well. And sometimes, the patient can come to see the therapist as a substitute for those they lost. The other is gone, the shrink seems to care. Therefore, they convince themselves they love the shrink." Tsukushi closed her eyes, and continued musingly, "Sometimes I think that's why antidepressants are so over-prescribed. It more clearly divorces the psychiatrist from the emotional aspects of healing. The patient now associates the easing of grief with medication rather than with the doctor. It's too bad I don't believe in fighting drug addiction with more drugs. We might have been spared this whole situation."

"And that would be a good thing?" Beside her, Soujiro quietly snorted, "Besides, your theory is total bullshit. Rui's not grateful for shit. He's angry that he's alive. Explain that. And have you met Tsukasa? Gratitude, my ass."

"Rui. . . Rui is harder to explain," Tsukushi sighed. She was doing a lot of that tonight. Sighing, that is, as well as explaining, "He, well, I guess I feel that he has an addictive/ obsessive personality. He needs something to obsess over. From what I've heard, he was totally fixated on Shizuka while she was a live, and when she died, he remained obsessed with the idea of her, and the idea of finding her through drugs and death. I can't help but think that now he's using the idea of me as a symbol for life. That I'm not really real to him. He's just using me to help him forget. . . But Tsukasa, what other explanation is there? It's not like we ever have a civil conversation. Honestly, we hardly know each other! How can he say he loves me? I'm just the first woman who stood up to him, who made him notice something outside himself since Shigeru's death."

"Trust me doc. That's not how it is."

But she couldn't trust him. Even now, she still didn't know how to trust. How to rely on anyone except herself. She could accept momentary instances of help, when offered, never expecting the moment to last. But it was so much harder to learn, again, that for some things, there were those she could now rely on, always. The F4 at least, had always had each other to trust in. She'd had no one. It simply didn't come back naturally to her. So she lay there and fixed Soujiro with a long measuring look. Even if she could rely on him, what guarantee was there that he actually knew what he was talking about?

"Fine." Soujiro tried another tactic, "If you don't believe me, why don't you actually try going on a date with them?"

"A date!" Tsukushi sounded scandalized. How long since she'd been on a date? Years at least. Must've been with Kin. And how do you go on a date with one of your housemates? "With both of them? At the same time?" that had got to be one of the world's worst ideas for sure.

"No, no. Silly. One at a time. Look, you're complaining that they don't really know you. Or you them, outside of your little therapy sessions, so you know, that's what a date is for. Getting to know someone."

"Yeah." Tsukushi snorted. "That or for uncomfortable smalltalk."

"Yeah. Well, Neither Rui nor Tsukasa are much for that shit." Or often for any kind of talk at all.

"Oh. That makes it so much easier."

"Damn, now you're just being stubborn to piss me off." Soujiro laughed, "Think about it. Give it a try. How bad could it be? You already know you're sexually compatible with at least one of them. That's one important step down. The rest is cake."

"Hah." Tsukushi couldn't help but roll her eyes at his confident assertion. Like anything involving her life, or Rui's, or Tsukasa's could possibly easy. But, she had to admit, he did have a point. How could she know for sure, unless she gave them a better chance? But then. . . "So, Soujiro," She began tentatively, "If sexual compatibility is the first step. Then why don't you date any of the women you've hooked up with?" She realized she'd hit a nerve when she felt him tense up beside her. Oops.

There was a long silence, while Soujiro contemplated the night sky. Well, Tsukushi was the head-shrinker after all, she could handle it. He counted his pulse until he was sure it was steady. He much preferred talking about other's problems. "Because it never gets any better." He confessed at last, frustration coloring his tone, "I used to try, you know. But I could never forget. All I do, is sit there, and compare them to her. And not one can compete. I've hit on all sorts of women. Slept with almost every conceivable personality type. Every physique from the fattest of the fat (hey, she had the most amazing smile I'd ever seen) to the tiniest midget (the things that woman could do with her tongue!) But the idea of falling in love with any of them? It was ludicrous. Either I'd feel they weren't good enough to measure up to my Sarah, or I'd feel guilty for trying to replace her. And the rest were just annoying. So tell me, doc. When does it get better? When do I get to put the past aside and forget? Tsukasa and Rui are moving on. But their solution – It can't work for me. Hell, I've tried fucking every woman I met, that didn't help. I've tried total abstinence. That doesn't do it either. No matter what, I'm screwed. And it just never ends.

"Oh Soujiro." Tsukushi wanted to cry for him. He should have talked to her sooner. She should have asked him sooner. If only she hadn't been so wrapped up in her own problems, or so busy disliking his playboy attitude. If it hadn't been so out of character for her, she would have wanted to hug him. Shit. "It's not about forgetting." He could hear the ache in her voice. The way all it took was a few words for her to take his pain unto herself. "I know you feel it. Trying to forget only hurts you more. There are some things you shouldn't forget. And every time you try, it only worsens the guilt. Sleeping with everyone and sleeping with no one are simply two extremes of the same phenomenon. That won't help you. You need to come to terms with the past. You loved Sarah. She loved you. She knew you cheated on her. How could she not? And I'm sure it hurt her. You know it too, or you wouldn't be like this. But she forgave you. Even if she never said it in words. You can't change the past. But you can accept it. Remember that she loved you, and that she knew you weren't perfect. She would have wanted you to move on. To be happy. Don't forget her. But don't wallow in it either. If you like screwing around. . . then do it." Tsukushi blushed to hear herself offer this advice, "But don't do it because you're trying to forget. Because you're scared to be alone. Do it because you want to be with that woman. No one can replace what you lost. No one should try. Find a different space in your heart to fit them in. Not the one that's already filled." Even Soujiro was startled by the intensity of her words.

So this is what she was like in her professional mode. When she wasn't moping around hating herself, scared of her own feelings, beaten down by the world. This is what she was like when she was focused solely on someone else. She threw her whole heart in, her whole passion, into making her patients see. She cared so much for everyone else. So little for herself. He hadn't quite understood before what had made Rui and Tsukasa fall for her. Most of the time, she seemed such a sad, drab little thing. But when she was lit up like this with passion, she seemed to glow, even in the dark of the night. No wonder they'd fallen for her, the woman who could do this thing, to talk with such conviction that you had to believe her, that you wanted it to be true. Everything she said. That life was possible. That there was a solution to his heartache. That she could show him the way.

But even so, "I just don't know." He heard his own words drifting out, a contradiction to the thoughts reeling through his brain, "I just don't know if I can love again. I'm not that deep. I've never even been tempted to fall for anyone else." Strictly speaking, this wasn't quite true. Not anymore. But that was not something she needed to know. Ever.

"Give it time, Soujiro." Tsukushi admonished, turning on her side to regard him more closely, "Everything takes time. Someday you might just be surprised. In the meantime, try it. Don't deny yourself out of misplaced guilt. Sarah is gone. Nothing can change that. Sleeping with another woman can't hurt her now. She'd understand. Just. . . keep it in moderation, and think, before you jump into bed, if the woman you're with is who you really want to spend time with. If it's someone you might like to see again. Someone you'd respect. Don't just use them and throw them away. Everyone deserves some more respect than that. Try it. Please?"

Slowly Soujiro nodded, hearing the wisdom in her words. Maybe that was true. If it didn't mean anything, than he was simply repeating his past mistakes. But that didn't mean he could fall in love with them. He could try. But what if he couldn't? What if Sarah really had been his one and only? Some people were like that. He shut his eyes tightly against the night, tried to suppress the admission wriggling at the back of his throat. Failed. "I've always wanted kids. Just one or two. But what do I do if I can't find someone? If I can't move on?" Sarah had wanted children. It had been a daydream that she'd infected him with. Tales of the family they'd have after they got married. Perhaps that was why he'd been scared once. Too young, not ready, but wanting, for someday.

"You can. You will. You'll see." Tsukushi urged. She was intrigued. She'd never pictured the suave player that was Soujiro as quite the parenting type. But then, there was a lot she didn't know about him.

Soujiro remained unconvinced, "Maybe. . ." He glanced over at the woman next to him, her slender form silhouetted against the city glow. She wasn't the world's most attractive woman by far, not even in the dark. But he'd bet she'd make a great mother someday. It was only too bad she was in love with someone else. He snorted quietly to himself, thoughts like that would get him nowhere. Tsukushi would never sleep with him. Much less let him get her pregnant.

Fortunately this train of thought was rapidly derailed by the ringing of his cell phone. "Yo, Akira. Where am I? Around. Yeah, I found her, we've been talking.. . Yeah. Tell Tsukasa she was out wandering the neighborhood or something. We'll be in soon. Yeah, before Tsukasa gets home. Thanks for the headsup, man. Bye."

Tsukushi looked at him curiously, somewhat saddened by the abrupt end to their conversation. Somehow, it had been a lot more pleasant than she'd expected, laying up here in the cool of night, with the talkative man. Maybe, maybe, she did have a friend and a confidant after all. It was a pleasant thought, and Tsukushi found herself smiling, as Soujiro helped her down off the roof and back through the window.

"I'm glad it was you that found me." Tsukushi smiled up at Soujiro as they stood in the suddenly stifling heat of the attic.

"So am I." Soujiro gave a small surprised laugh at his own admission, and startled them both even more by pulling Tsukushi into a quick hug. A hug like she'd been craving for someone to give her for so long now, the embrace of a friend and nothing more. She clung to him then, for slightly long than necessary, gaining strength to do what was needed, giving him the strength to try a new perspective. Wasn't that what friends were for?

- - - -

"Rui?" Tsukushi stood in his darkened doorway, having learned that he'd not joined Tsukasa or Akira in their search for her, simply shaken his head and returned to his solitary room. Passing the hours in contemplation, or self-pity. Whatever it was he did there.

"Doc?" Rui's prone form was barely a shadow against the darkness of the room. His tone bespoke wariness, resignation, tinged with the slightest bit of unwilling hope.

"Rui. I hope I didn't wake you. Umm." Tsukushi realized she was stammering, and fixed her mind on what she'd come to ask. Hell, why was she so nervous? It wasn't like he was going to reject her or something. Maybe she was just scared that he'd say yes. Scared what she might learn about him, about herself, about the two of them. Stupid stupid, she kicked herself. Just say it, "Do you want to meet me for dinner tomorrow?" the words fell out all in a rush. Smooth. Real smooth. The long pause from the man lurking in the room just made her cringe all the harder.

"Dinner?" He'd more been expecting her to tell him that she'd decided that they were an item that could never be, or worse, that she'd rather see Tsukasa. The actual request confused him, "Like here?"

"No." Tsukushi could feel herself dying of embarrassment. This was just so awkward, "Out. Nothing, Nothing fancy. I just thought maybe. . . I used to tell you all about the Deli Haus . . . Maybe, maybe you'd like to go there with me?"

"Like a date?" He still couldn't quite believe it.

"Yes." Tsukushi was glad he couldn't see her crimson cheeks, "Exacly like that. Please, Rui.? Yes or no? Say something. Anything. Please."

Well of course. A date. Why hadn't he thought of that, "Yes." He could see her sag in relief, silhouetted against the door. It must have cost her a lot to make this request. Contradicting all the ways shed been taught to act towards her patients. He could see it in the way she seemed to fight with herself before smiling blindly towards him,

"Well that's all right then. I'll see you tomorrow." Hastily she backed out and fled to the safety of her own room, leaving Rui to contemplate the brief encounter. A date? With Dr. Makino? He hadn't the faintest idea of how to behave. He could only hope that it wouldn't turn put to be a total disaster. Was Tsukasa invited? Rui felt a brief pang of jealousy. Did he even deserve to be jealous of his best friend? Damn, he'd forgotten how much energy caring took. A date? A date. He was going on a date. Suddenly Rui smiled in almost childlike happiness. His doctor with the beautiful heart, and the sad sad eyes that never quite matched her smile. Even the true smile she only wore for him. Had asked him on a date. Even Shizuka had never asked him on a date. He'd always had to pursue her in everything. Perhaps it was a sign.

Maybe this thing, It could be ok after all.

- - -

Tsukasa stormed home. Fully intending to rant and rage at the errant woman for disappearing like that. For making him worry. For not being there where he wanted her. For not making up her mind right now, goddamnit. But his friends had other plans.

"Hey Tsukasa!" Soujiro stopped him almost the second he walked in through the door, loudly buying Akira the time to get into position, "Glad you're back, Look, can we go over the score for those new lyrics of yours? Something's not quite right. . ."

"No. Where is she?" Rudely Tsukasa brushed past and headed for the stairs, only to be blocked off from his prey by Akira, looking strangely stern. Tsukasa wasn't used to Akira holding his ground and stumbled to a confused stop.

"Tsukasa, Tsukasa." Akira admonished, "Think before you act. The poor woman needs breathing space. She's tired. She went to bed. Leave her alone. If you don't give her time she's never going to come to you. Especially not if you wake her up now. Women don't like being awoken. They need their beauty sleep. So back off, ok? I'm only saying it as a friend. But I'm not letting you by."

And he didn't either, no matter how Tsukasa blustered and glared. Soujiro had told him to do this thing. and so he would, for he trusted Soujiro's judgment. Tsukasa would come 'round eventually. And the sun would rise in the morning. Of this, if nothing else, he was sure.

TBC.

- - - - Oh my, it's pretty amazing how much review numbers start to rise when the romance kicks in. Ah well. Guess I know what this audience craves, More n-somes. More rui moments. Too bad I apparently have this terrible Soujiro hang-up. I dunno what's wrong with me. But he just doesn't want to sit on the shelf like the good little sidekick he's supposed to be. Doh! Yeah, I do complicate scenarios too damned much, it's a side effect of thinking too damned much. Which is a side effect of being in an almost permanently hypomanic state. Better than being depressed off my ass, but whee, sometimes I wish the brain would slow down long enough for some rational thought to creep in.

reviewer responses! Randomly selected. 'cause I don't have time to answer all

ryan: oh tsukasa will get his chance allright, but's up to him (or me, really) as to whether he'll fuck it up. Coin toss says. . . .

cultkagome and sesshomaru: you can imagine whatever you'd like about what I'm like in real life without pissing me off, just as long as you don't think I'm a goth, which someone once thought, and I still don't get. They don't tend to let Goths into medschool much less md/phd programs. Sadly. It'd be much more exciting around here if they did. Or at least. Amusing. Anyway, thanks for your kind comments!

Rokusan: thanks! I'll drink to that toast, and many like it:)

Sukiss: thanks! The sad thing is, though, that someday, I'll be one of those dried-prune academics. My fanfiction writing tendencies well-squelched beneath he piles of grant applications. Oh the horror!

emerald sheen: You win! I'm glad someone out there had a good 3some. Maybe my friends are all just whiners. "waah, so this guy invited me to hook up with him and his gf, and it was ok at first, and fun, but then they started to ignore me, and I'm just like, what now, sit here and masturbate while they have sex? What's the point?" true story, paraphrased.

Stacey: oh my. I do not deserve such praise! But I'm so glad you're enjoying thestory. I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations, or at least does not disappoint too much!

And to: blackcat, mochi, cutebowlofvioletcurry, kenni, ice-dwine, akaichou, just-a-teen, dreaminglilmariel, len, abyss, honeyblood, and anyone else I may have missed. Thank you all for reading and reviewing, itswhat keeps me going even when I wish this story would hurry up and end already!

Oh and, to answer your other question, abyss. Yes, I'm working on it (just started thinking about it last week in fact), so you don't need to beg. But the last 2 chapters have got to go, and I've only got around to starting rewriting ch 28. so it won't be updated until I've got those 2 done and a new one to follow. I suppose I could do sooner if the ch were shorter. But yeah.. . . funny the effect stress has on me. Write more. In what free time? Hah!


	49. ch 48 in which Rui remembers

She should have known that the date would be a disaster. She really should have. After all, when was the last time that events in her life had felt like they were under her control? Not that a sense of control would have been all it would have taken to make things bearable. A modicum of social skills might have been nice too. Maybe a little less self-consciousness. But hey, you couldn't have everything. Sometime you couldn't even have the things you needed. Tsukushi cursed herself for having an avoidant personality, for having dodged even the attempt at normalcy for all these years. This totally abnormal situation was not conducive to a new start.

To call the evening an unmitigated disaster even, might not be hyperbole, Tsukushi thought, as the thick knot of tension in her stomach ratcheted ever tighter. It had almost started out all right. Almost. Not. She'd forgotten to set a time for dinner, had forgotten in her embarrassed daze last night, that Rui didn't even have transportation, or that the other 3 men still didn't believe in allowing him to leave the house without an escort, to ward off any possible temptation on his part to go ground, go back to the non-life he'd had before. Fortunately, Akira had remembered all these things, and had come by to drop Rui off at the hospital at 6 pm. Which, of course, precipitated the first crisis. As in, Akira had no subtlety and had jovially announced the presence of her 'date' in the crowded ER, causing turned heads all around. Turned heads which rapidly developed slack-jawed stares when the other doctors and nurses realized, first, that the date referred to, was not Tsukasa, the man some of them clearly remembered as being the one Tsukushi'd been pictured with in the tabloids not so long ago, secondly, for some of them, that the two guys here, were still other members of the F4, and thirdly, that one of them; Rui, the aforementioned 'date' was actually a man many of them, after a little squinting, recognized as being a former patient of theirs, and a homeless junkie at that. Tsukushi could almost hear the gears turning in their heads as they worked through the implications, and she couldn't help the flush of humiliated embarrassment as their eyes fell on her. Fortunately, she couldn't hear their whispers through the blood in her ears, or the grinding of her teeth. She wanted to fall through the floor, wanted to vanish into thin air. She would never be able to live it down, not in a million years, this violation of her professional ethics. Others could seduce patients without shame. Not her. It didn't help that she'd tried to stop herself. It didn't help that others had done far worse, or that she held easily enough blackmail material now, to stop any hospital ethics board inquiry dead in its tracks. It didn't even matter, that most of the stares in her direction were envious rather than properly judgmental. She knew she was doing wrong. She could lose her medical license for something like this. She should lose her license for it. And she knew that every one of her jealous, hateful, envious co-workers knew it too.

But that didn't stop her. She had started this thing, or at least been swept away by it. She owed it to herself, and to Rui, even to Tsukasa to see it through. So, she stiffened her spine against the watchful eyes, and she pulled her dignity around her, and she walked right up to Akira and Rui, and led them out of the ER like she belonged with them, and damn what everyone else thought. After all, the only opinion that mattered was her own, and she could castigate herself enough for the lot of them. So that was that. They did manage to get out of the hospital and bid farewell to Akira without further incident. They even managed to make their way to the Deli Haus and find a seat without being noticed on the street.

By that point however, Tsukushi already had a nagging suspicion that the date wasn't going well. It might have had something to do with the utter blank she was drawing as to potential subjects of conversation. Everything that came to mind, she dismissed as sounding a little too clinical – a little too like something she should be saying in a patient interview or progress report. And this was Rui for crissakes! Someone who'd been her patient for just ages and ages. How was she supposed to crack that paradigm so quickly? She just couldn't!

For his part, Rui wasn't much help, either. He wasn't exactly known for his stellar social skills. And while a great many thoughts may have been worming their way through his brain, not one of them made it as far as his lips. He was content to simply Be. To be here and now, to Be here with Tsukushi, letting her presence remind him of why he was alive. For the moment, he remained too immersed within himself to notice her discomfort.

It was a very quiet walk. And with every step, Tsukushi felt the awkwardness thicken and grow between them, like the web a spider spins around its paralyzed prey. All a product of her own mind. To put it shortly, it sucked.

A brief bout of relief came when the waitresses noticed Tsukushi, and came over to chat briefly. And for a few minutes, Tsukushi came alive, as she caught up on the latest Deli Haus gossip; about the latest antics of Mary's little kid, or Ami's scandalous love life. Even Rui's face lit up with a small half smile as he watched her light up during her interaction with her old acquaintances, No wonder she loved this place. It was plain the wait staff adored her too. But the moment was ended when the women finally deigned to notice him.

"And, Tsukushi, Who is this you've brought with you?" Suspecting the answer already. Everyone knew after all, where she was living, and with whom. How could they not? Enough tabloids got left on tables here, enough gossip was overheard from lunching hospital staff. . .

"Oh, Yeah." Tsukushi colored at her own rudeness, "Laura, Mary, This is Rui. Rui, meet Laura and Mary."

"Hi," Was Rui's laconic response, while the two women gasped as their suspicions were confirmed.

"The Rui?" "This is him?"

"Yes." Tsukushi replied tersely.

"Wow. He looks better than I would have thought."

"I can hardly see the tracklines anymore."

"What?" Tsukushi, scandalized, began to feel the heat rising to her face. Even by Deli Haus standards, this was a bit much. Fortunately, Rui didn't take their scrutiny amiss, and began to laugh. After all, when you'd seen the world the way he had, lived through what he'd done, what did you care what some strangers thought?

The questions continued; a virtual interrogation, "What are you doing with him here? Is he still your patient? What about that Asshole Tsukasa guy who came by last time you were here? What's up with that? Are you back at the hospital now?"

Tsukushi blushed and stammered, and failed to coherently answer anything, as she desperately wished she'd thought to come any place but here. Fortunately, she was saved by Rui's deliberately rude interruption, "I'm hungry, and I bet Tsukushi is too. Can we order?" If these waitresses were going to embarrass Tsukushi, even by their kind concern, then he could annoy them right back.

But after the two women had cleared off to return to their normal duties, silence fell once more between the mismatched pair.

Awkward silence. Like the worst date you've ever been on.

Not bad, like the icky, skeazy blind date you can't wait to get away from. Not that "oh-please-god-when-will-it-end-so-I-never-have-to-see-this-fucker-again" kind of bad, but rather that trembling dread of nervousness, the kind you get around the guy you want so hard to impress, want to be impressed by. But somehow you just can't get over that little social hump, that "what do I say now?" awkwardness. The sexual tension that you know is there, but refuse to acknowledge.

Tsukushi wanted to explode with the frustration. If she was going to do this thing, she should at least do this well. But her inhibitions were getting the best of her. The sense that she was doing something wrong, and that everyone around her was watching with disapproving eyes. The whispers, both real and imagined, hammering at her skull. The oppressive sense that if they were alone, then maybe she might have the chance to relax and just be. The way she had when he'd been her patient. Like the myriad nights she'd sat by his bedside, holding his hand so he could sleep. Or the days he'd come into the hospital in a coma, and she'd paced beside his bed, ranting at him to pull through goddamnit, that he couldn't die on her this time, even as she watched the IV fluids drip down like sand in an expiring hourglass.

The food came. She picked at it, and messed it around her plate, without eating it. She stared at her hands, she concentrated on not biting her nails. Rui watched her, like some kind of scientist evaluating the outcome of an experiment they weren't sure of having botched. He was feeling the awkwardness now too, wondering what she was thinking, not liking the ideas that sprang from his subconscious. Tsukushi looked far away, her eyes listless and dull. That wasn't how she should be, she should be right here with him, right now. She wasn't a person designed for internalization, he'd decided that long ago. She was immediacy, she was action, she was the here-and-now embodied, the wearer of her heart on her sleeve. It wasn't right for her to drift off into a place he couldn't reach. After all, drifting was his talent.

"Is it really that bad?" He asked almost wistfully, his soft-spoken words jerking Tsukushi from her reverie. "Can you really not stand my company so much?"

"No!" Tsukushi shook her head in vehement denial, as the clarity returned to her eyes, "No. . ." more quietly now, "It's not you. . ."

"Not that old line," Rui tried to make a joke of it, but failed as hints of bitterness seeped into his voice, "It's not you, it's me. And all that." Maybe he should have tried harder sooner. But it was so hard to forget Shizuka, so hard to try. And now he could feel Tsukushi slipping away, like water through his grasping hands, like the ebbing tide of a heroin high.

"Rui . . .I . . " Tsukushi tried to marshal her thoughts, but stumbled, unsure of what she wished to say. For his part, Rui was sure he didn't want to know, so he cut her off.

"Let's get out of here." He spoke abruptly, and pushed to his feet, though their meal was no more than half-finished, "let's go for a walk." Awkwardly, he extended his hand to help Tsukushi to her feet, as she hastily dug threw through her wallet to pay for the meal. "Hah." Rui sighed, almost bitterly, his voice nearly inaudible, "See how useless I am, I can't even take you out to dinner, it's no wonder you'd rather be someplace else."

"Rui!" Tsukushi reacted out of habit, scolding him unselfconsciously as they strode out into the street, "You've got to stop talking like that! You're not useless! You're worth far more . . ." but she never got to finish the thought, for Rui had turned on her, his emotions flaring out of control at hearing the way she spoke of him, this troubled doctor who thought so little of herself, and everything of him. The same way he felt about her. And he couldn't take it any more. He'd always hated words, when music was so much truer and more real. Words could lie. And he didn't want to hear anymore of them. Thus, he stopped Tsukushi's lips with his own, even as he stopped her body with his. Right there in the middle of the sidewalk, he wrapped his arms around her, feeling her entire body tense in shock, even as her lips tentatively responded to his caresses. Beneath his fingertips, he could feel her skin heat in embarrassment or in desire, but he wasn't going to let her go, not when he had her where he wanted her. And damn the passers-by who didn't like the show.

"Rui. . ." she spoke his name again, and this time it was in a husky whisper, as if she were stunned by his actions. Even in the harsh sodium-light of the street-lamps, her blush was visible as she fought to get herself under control.

"Tsukushi." Rui, took a deep breath, and stepped away slightly, giving her a chance to breathe for a second, before his hand sought out her own, and tugged her down the street. He had an idea, "See what you do to me? You make me feel alive. You make me glad to be alive again. . ."

"But . . " Tsukushi protested weakly, her body still tingling with the memory of the way he felt pressed up against her, "Anyone could do that. Really! What about everything else? We have nothing in common. I mean look at us, I couldn't even hold a normal conversation at dinner! This isn't supposed to be happening!"

"That's what makes it interesting." Rui refused to bow to her argument. It was his turn now, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, he felt in control. Slowly a smile spread across his normally cool features, and he repeated himself, "That's what makes it so interesting."

They had been walking at quite a rapid clip, and before Tsukushi knew it, they were deep into a rather unsavory part of town, one familiar to Rui from long and painful experience.

"Rui, what are we doing here?" Tsukushi asked nervously, glancing around herself, as if expecting to be attacked at any given moment. It had never been an area she was comfortable in after dark, even when accompanied by another person.

"Shh. . . I wanted to show you something." Unerringly, Rui led her down the dirty streets, past dilapidated and graffiti-scrawled buildings. "Remember this place?" A dark and trash-strewn alley, smelling of rotting garbage in the summer heat.

"Umm. . . " Tsukushi bit her lip as she thought back.

"I had my first OD in that alley." Rui murmured, "It was a miracle anyone found me. If the kids who found me hadn't known CPR, I wouldn't have survived to make it to the ER. I was furious when I woke up. Come on." Unconsciously, his free hand reached across to rub the scars that adorned his other arm.

"Rui. . . What are we doing here?" Tsukushi shivered, though not with cold.

"Taking a tour." Rui laced his fingers more closely with hers as they pressed on, "And here, is where I had my second OD." Pointing at a familiar building, its windows lit by a cheery yellow glow; the soup kitchen at which Tsukushi volunteered, "You remember that, don't you? You were working that day. I remember now. You were new on the staff, new to the city, new to the hospital then. You hadn't yet gotten shafted with my hopeless case," Rui laughed, "I only remember, because it was rare that we got a fresh face in that place. . . and because you looked so alone, with a smile that never reached your eyes. I'd come in, not for the food, but to meet my dealer. You gave me an extra portion, but I didn't touch it. I went straight to the bathroom to shoot up."

Tsukushi winced, feeling that tears were coming to her eyes. She'd tried to forget that night. She'd been about to head home for the night, when someone had found Rui passed out in the back room. She'd been the one to call an ambulance, she'd started ventilating him, and then, the next day, her attending had called her into his office, with a laugh, and given her the responsibility of caring for their "little problem child." As he'd referred to Rui. . . For her that was where it had all began.

They moved onwards, another alley this time. "And here is where I was assaulted for the first time," Rui was proud that his voice remained dispassionate, "They wanted my money, but when they saw I had none, and that I was, as they put it, "a pretty boy," they raped me." Tsukushi's fingers gripped his tightly, as his pain recollected her own. "It's okay though," Rui reassured her, "I was high at the time. Why I had no money. I didn't feel a thing until the next day." Tsukushi wasn't reassured, and the first tears began to drip down her face.

Onward again, to a shabby motel, all flickering neon and rotting wood. "I was lucky," Rui explained, "My first trick was a bit particular as to where he wanted to fuck. My fourth OD was here as well. When I think back, it's almost a miracle I didn't pick up any of those street nasties; HIV, Hep C. . . all those beauts the hospital staff always ranted at me about."

"Rui!" Tsukushi pled, "Stop it! Why are you showing me these places?"

"One more." Rui patted her hand, "I just want you to see."

"See what?" Tsukushi wiped ineffectually at her tears again. But Rui would not answer; he just led her down yet another gloomy street to a quiet alley.

"You know this place too. I used to live here. If you can call it living." His box was gone, the dirty blankets and small bag of what few clothes he'd had. The alley he'd been sleeping in, when she'd led Tsukasa, Akira, and Soujiro to find him those few months ago. "Tsukushi." Rui said again, turning back to the still-sniffling woman beside him, "Don't cry for me anymore. You saved me from all this. I'm not the man now that I was 10 months, a year ago. It was you. You remember all this, You know all these places. You think Tsukasa understands this place where we're at? Or Akira? They haven't seen. They don't really know." Gently he took her hand, and placed it on his arm, tracing the fading track marks and the blemishes left by poorly healed abscesses, reminders of life on the street. "You say we have nothing in common. But we do. You know how it feels. We live with the filth and the regret everyday, and you we try to forget anyway we know how. But sometimes, it's ok to remember. And not to be afraid." He smiled down at her, and gently brushed away the tears from her cheeks, "You taught me that. Words are not always necessary, if you can just feel." It was his way of apologizing for not being able to hold a conversation. His way of explaining part of the bond he felt. And he could tell that Tsukushi was pondering the sights they'd seen and the words he'd spoken, as her fingers lightly traced the indelible marks of his pain etched into the skin of his arms, as her fingers moved higher, flirting with the sleeves of his T-shirt, brushed across his shoulder, and finally surrendered to the need she felt to erase his pain, and her own. For he was right, she could waste all the time in the world on doubt, while the memories slipped away leaving her with only regret, or she could surrender to what they both wanted, in the hope that what had taken them this far could take them a few steps further on the road to salvation.

And it was with a sense of inevitability that her small hands tangled in Rui's hair and pulled his head down to her level, so that he could hear her whisper sadly in his ear, "I remember, that love hurts. But I think, this time it might be worth the risk."

Rui laughed gently "I remember, that life hurts. But I'd rather hurt, as long as it's you that's smacking me around. Beating the sense into me" And he reached out, ran his hands slowly down her sides, sliding around to pull her hips firmly against his own, to bring her chest flush against his, feeling as much of her body pressed against his as he could, her warm beating heart, her hair in his face. Shizuka was dead. Tsukushi was alive, and so was he. Every tingling nerve ending told him so, every breath of hers that caressed his neck. If they'd been closeted in the shelter of their own home, he would have jumped her then and there and shown her, again, how very alive he, and every little bit (or not so little bit as the case might be) of him really was. But they weren't, and even if they had been, Rui wouldn't have wanted to share this moment with Tsukasa. Not for all the world.

So maybe it was for the best after all, that they were standing in a deserted street in a sketchy part of town, and the night was still young.

And maybe, Tsukushi thought, after they'd pulled themselves apart and strolled towards a more respectable neighborhood, just maybe, this date was not an unmitigated disaster after all. She didn't understand how or why, but somehow, she no longer minded the silence between them. And while she still fought with herself over the morality of her actions, somehow at this moment, the rules of society seemed so very far away from the logic and the emotion that dictated to her that this moment now, was about nothing more complicated than allowing herself to love and be loved by, the wounded, brooding man here besides her, the one who knew her better than anyone else, the one to whom she'd given everything of herself that she possessed throughout their innumerable counseling visits, the one who stopped to kiss her every now and then, as if to remind himself that this moment was real. As real as all the misery that had preceded it, and all the misery that would follow,

TBC

- - - Yo, yeah it's been a while, too long, since last I updated. And it may be another too long while before the next one. I do apologize, but you know how it is. No Time, no inspiration, yada yada (but you could guess t hat just by reading, I am sure – and oh man, did you check out some of the mega gratuitously long run-on sentences in there? Whoo-ah, my grammar gets worse by the second!). I started this chapter 3 times, with a specific endpoint in mind. But crashed and burned after 1 paragraph each time. This time, I got a whole page or more into it before I gave up, honestly, I have no idea where the last half of the chapter came from. I sat down tonight intending to force my way to where I wanted to be, but look what came out! Yeek! Nothing like the plan I had. Not even an alternate idea in the back of my brain. Well, maybe it's for the best anyway. In the months in between being too uninspired to write, I: finished my thesis (249 pages!); defended it; presented at conference; went on vacation; almost killed a motorcyclist who decided to ram a hole into the side of my car while driving on the highway; finished my paper and got it accepted to MCB; started up medical school again—and speaking of which, it sucks having to go to lectures and shit again, in between the whole, I actually have to interact with patients now, thing. Funnily enough, my first clinical clerkship, what I'm doing now, is actually psych. The one specialty my friends say I'm absolutely forbidden to go into, lest I drive my patients even loopier than they already are. And let me tell you, some of the guys I see are in rough shape. (I met a man who wasn't there, and one who talks to gods). Ah well, in 3 weeks I'm off to family medicine, and only intermittent internet access as I'll be out of state. Guess I'd better get my writing back on track before then so my poor faithful readers don't hate me forever. . . .until next time, whenever that may be, thanks for reading! –Curdled "just call me dr. demento" Milk, PhD - - -


	50. ch 49 in which tsukasa takes action

"We need to talk."

Tsukasa slammed his hands down on the kitchen table early the next morning, startling the unsuspecting Tsukushi out of her morning pre-caffeine stupor.

"Wha?" She looked groggily up, feeling every muscle in her back tense up at the vehemence in his tone. She didn't want to deal with him now! He'd said he'd give her time. And it was 6 am, for fuck's sake. She couldn't carry out a coherent conversation until at least 6:10!

"I want to go forward with the case against Junpei."

Tsukushi blinked, "Huh?" OK, that wasn't the topic she'd expected him to bring up. "But. . . What?"

"Idiot!" Tsukasa snarled in frustration. "Taking Jun down for good. I promised you that I'd get rid of him for you." It had been part of their agreement. But really, he wanted to do this thing for her. To show her how he cared.

"But." Tsukushi stuttered again, "It won't do any good. Too much time has passed, It's just my word against his." She found herself shivering now, her hands shaking as she reached out for her cup of coffee. The last residue of good mood she'd retained from last night was rapidly dissipating as the tension in her spine built up. Tension that was not alleviated at all, by the sight of Tsukasa looming over her, "And besides," she muttered bitterly, "I've been thinking. No celebrity male that has been accused of . . . of Rape, has ever suffered significant damage to their career. If anything, it's good publicity. I, I can't do this. Not if it's just going to help him."

"Damnit woman!" Tsukasa exploded, "Where's your spine? I said we'd take him down, and we will. A civil case. Screw the criminal case, that's just too much effort. We have a chance at a civil case. I found character witnesses. We'll sue for emotional damages. If he's smart, he'll settle out of court, and we'll negotiate away his claim on being a member of the F4, plus a hefty sum of cash for you. If he's not smart, you'll win even more in court."

"But." Tsukushi tried again, weakly, "That won't keep him away. It'll only make him more obsessed. And besides. . . " she trailed off, embarrassed to say the rest of her fears; that her accusations would backfire, that her reputation would be ruined, that she'd have to abandon her medical career in shame. "Never mind." She gave up and slumped down at the table, burying her head in her hands.

But somehow Tsukasa seemed to understand, though he made no mention of it. "Trust me." He stood up and gave her shoulder a hard squeeze, his attempt at reassurance, "I promised we'd take him down and we will. No one with any sense will blame you. And who cares what the other idiots think? Screw 'em all. We know the truth." He shrugged, though Tsukushi could not see his action, and, greatly daring, reached out to ruffle his hand affectionately through her hair. "You'll see." And with that, he hastily exited the kitchen, before Tsukushi could look up and catch him staring at her.

"Oh god." Tsukushi took several more deep breaths before she raised her head and gulped down the rest of her coffee. She was going to need all the strength she could muster to get through the next few weeks. It was only after she'd gotten into her car and started driving off to work that she realized that not once this morning, had Tsukasa brought up the other matter she feared, that of her decision on him. Or even worse, interrogated her on what had occurred with Rui last night. Maybe this was his revenge for her continued silence, her continued avoidance of him. But if that were the case, than why had he touched her like that this morning? Tsukushi was confused. And she hated being confused. She resolved not to think about it anymore. Just like she wasn't going to think about how Rui had kissed her last night, and kissed her again, and seemed so mournful when she'd retired, alone, to her own bed at the end of the night. She hadn't been comfortable with the idea of more, and hadn't thought it was fair to sleep with one man, when there was another who fought for her affection lurking right down the hallway. At least, that was what she told herself, but the reality was that she was afraid. Terrified more like, that her one good sexual experience, that totally surreal night with Rui and Tsukasa had been a fluke, that another attempt would lead to unhappiness, and awkward silences. And she wasn't ever, ever going to let herself think, not even for a second, that maybe the only reason she'd been relaxed enough that first time to find satisfaction had anything to do with how much safer she felt with the two of them there, than she might've had she been in bed with one man alone. . .

To get her mind off her home situation, or whatever you wanted to call it, Tsukushi worked like a maniac that day, ignoring the snide comments of her coworkers, or the envious gossip that went around about what (who) she'd been doing last night. Fortunately, it was a busy day in the ER, with more than the usual number of depressives with suicidal ideation, drunks needing detox, a few delirious seniors, and even one poor guy with some funky frontal-lobe dementia stemming from a car accident. So much to do, and Tsukushi was glad to do it, glad to focus on more soluble problems then her own. By the end of the day, then, she was actually feeling pretty good, like her life did make a difference. She'd almost completely managed to put Tsukasa's words this morning out of her mind. That was until one of the fourth year surgical residents sidled up to her with a sneer, "You really think you're so special, don't you? You've fooled a lot of people. But we all know the truth. You're just a scheming little slut aren't you? You probably only got through medical school by giving your attendings blow-jobs, didn't you? While the rest of us worked our asses off. But you won't get away with it forever. You're going down, bitch."

"What?" Tsukushi whirled on her detractor, "What the bloody hell are you talking about, you silly bitch?'

"Oh. Play the innocent now, why don't you?" Now they'd attracted a crowd, and a nurse interrupted, "We saw you strutting off last night, you and those two rock stars. Now you think you can smear an innocent man, just to make yourself look better to the guys you're fucking."

"The hell?" Tsukushi shook her head in confusion, until she figured it out. Mr. Doumyouji sure didn't waste time, did he? Damn the man, "Wait just one minute! You!" she pointed and indignant finger at the nurse, "You don't get to talk! I seem to recall catching you and Mr. Nishikado going at it in the breakroom a few months ago, and you," rounding on the surgical resident, "You were making eyes at Mr. Mimasaka last night. You gave him your phone number. So quit it with the hypocrisy! Don't you have work to do?"

But they were not deterred, "And what about this nonsense that was just on CNN? About you and Junpei Oribe? You just have to have all the men don't you?"

"You think that's what this is about?" Tsukushi couldn't believe it, "What are you, a bunch of teenagers? What the hell did you think the news said? You want the truth? The truth is that I was raped, in college. You think I'm happy about that? You think I wanted it? Great, why don't we all go back to the 'blame he victim mentality?' Hell, why not burn me at the stake. I was going to let the issue die. I moved on with my life. But there's only so much harassment I could take after he moved to town, so I filed for damages. If you want to blame me, fine, but do me the favor of doing it on your own time. I've got work to do." Scarlet-faced and furious at having her personal life aired in public, Tsukushi stormed past, on her way to her next patient. While behind her, the muttering only intensified, phrases such as, "well, at least that explains why she's such a frigid bitch." drifting out to catch her ears.

"I think it's very brave of you, dearie." One moderately demented, albeit very grandmotherly patient tried to pat Tsukushi's hand, "Being on the news is very scary."

"Yes, yes it is." Tsukushi agreed, somewhat shakily, a bit unnerved at being a 5 minute celebrity. And how come she was on the news, goddamnit? Where had they got her picture from? She hadn't done any interviews. Hell, all she'd ever done was admit her story to the F4. Tsukasa must have had his lawyers sneaking around behind her back. Damn the man! Damn him damn him, and damn him again.

Somehow, though, she still managed to make it through the rest of the day, dragging herself home to find that Akira and Soujiro had left town that afternoon, to work on buttering up a few more allies in their stock-buying schemes. She was all alone in the house, save for Tsukasa and Rui, neither of whom she much felt like dealing with right now. She might've tried to capture another moment with Rui, but in the mood she was in. she felt that reaching for rapport tonight might just be a bit too much effort. And Tsukasa? Yeah, right now the only thing she felt like doing to him was smacking him across that too-handsome, too-arrogant face. She wished Soujiro were home. Or even Akira. But lacking either, all she had was herself.

Her sleep that night was restless and plagued by nightmares, but not so restless that she ever noticed the man who snuck in, in the middle of the night, to brush her hair back, the way he could not do when she was awake, and promise her that it would be all right.

And when at last, Tsukasa slipped back from Tsukushi's room out into the darkened hallway, Rui was waiting for him.

"I don't like you very much right now." He admitted.

"Yeah well." Tsukasa retorted, feeling his self-righteous defensiveness kicking in, "The feeling is mutual." He was jealous of Rui, and it showed. And so okay, yeah, maybe that had influenced his thinking – he wanted to do Something to show Dr. Makino, something to show her how he cared. But he wasn't good at words, and she avoided him, what else could he do, but keep his promises. Maybe it would be painful at first, but he knew, he had faith that she needed this catharsis, and. . . well, . . .really. . .it was all he knew to do.

"Hmm." Rui glared dubiously at Tsukasa. "You could have waited."

"No."

"This isn't going to work."

"It has to."

"I don't mean the lawsuit."

"I know."

"I don't want to share."

"It's not up to you."

"She loves me."

"I love her." Tsukasa could feel his jaw clench. Rui was missing the point.

"Funny way you have of showing it."

"I am not going to take advice from you!" Tsukasa was shit out of patience, "You don't get to talk. You wouldn't even be here if it weren't for her. You'd be dead. A worthless junkie who threw away his friends!"

"Your point being?"

"My point." Tsukasa ground out, "Is that I bet your therapy hurt, didn't it? You hated it, didn't you? But she took care of you. Did what had to be done. And here you are. Alive. Living life. . . So maybe, I'm just doing what has to be done. She needs this. It's going to hurt. Legal battles always suck. But in the end, we're going to bury the past and move on."

"You think?" It was almost a sneer. "And she'll be so overwhelmed by gratitude that she'll fall in love with you?"

"No." Tsukasa admitted. "What she does is up to her. I'm still going to do what I have to do."

"You're more a fool than I." Rui sighed as he turned away.

"No." Tsukasa almost laughed, "I have faith in her you see."

"Well that's a change." Rui turned back again, "You didn't seem to feel that way previously. Care to explain?"

"No." Tsukasa obstinately shook his head. "But I know. She'll come around."

"I'm not losing her to you." Rui's voice was low and dangerous.

"I'm not giving her up."

"You don't have her."

". . .Yet." Tsukasa amended, as he strode down the hall to his own room, "You mean, I don't have her yet." But he wasn't going to give up until she loved him. And if she continued to love Rui, then so be it. Much as Tsukasa disliked the idea, he would still rather share His Doctor, than see Rui wither and die without her love. He might be a selfish man, but he wasn't that selfish. He wondered if the same could be said for Rui. . .

TBC

- - - whee. One week left of my psych rotation, then I'm off to family med. Ugh. Short chapter today, because my attention span is shot. Also, I'd like to note, that I have finally posted a new fiction that I promised one of my readers sometime last year. Unfo, I lost my address book when my old computer died, so I have no idea who you are anymore, but: to the reader who requested that I write a fanfiction for Hot Blooded Woman, if you are still reading this now, I have finally given it a shot, and a short fiction is now posted here on ff(dot) net, entitled "so it goes." And the best part is not only is it short, it is also complete! And anyone else who actually knows what the hell HBW is all about, you can read it too, but if you haven't read it, chances are good that you'll be completely lost by the end of the first chapter. (which probably explains why only 4 of 19 people who hit the first chapter actually finished it.) Did I mention how much I love the stats feature on this site? I know I did. Until next time, whenever that may be - - - cm. Curdled(dot)milk(at)gmail(dot)com.


	51. ch 50 in which the trial begins

- - - bah. I screwed up. I finally got around to actually looking up statute of limitations stuff, only to find out that in most states it's like 1-3 years for filing tort lawsuit for rape. If going through criminal justice is 20 years. Although I found this website for ohio where tort SoL for "intentional infliction of emotional distress" is 4 years. The hell? How is sexual assault SoL 1 year while that is 4? I don't get it, but then, I don't live in ohio anyway, thank god. But anyway, we will pretend that in the unnamed city in the unnamed state in this fic, SoL is at least 8 years, since this story takes place at least 6-7 years after the act itself. and the reason that this is being done as civil case, if I wasn't clear previously, is that in civil case one only needs a "preponderance of the evidence" of guilt to win, vs criminal in which must be beyond reasonable doubt. Also civil cases tend to get processed very very slowly, since courts are so backlogged these days, but for the sake of not having this fic go on for another 50 chapters, (50 chapters, my god, it's a fucking novel!) we will have to use creative license to get things moving on a much shorter timescale. Or we could just assume that if even my descriptions of hospital-life are totally wack (which they are) and that's something I actually know something about, then there is absolutely no reason that my descriptions of anything else, from the music industry to the vagaries of modern law should be anything other than purest fantasy (which they are). OK, rant aside, on with the story. - -cm - - -

The next few weeks were hectic. Like that was really any change from the usual. Tsukasa's money bought a lot of things, lawyers, publicity, clout. . . Tsukushi didn't quite dare to ask if he could afford to buy judges and juries, too. But the upshot was that Tsukasa (or rather his lawyers), managed to get Tsukushi's case scheduled quickly, and all she had to do was sign a whole bunch of papers, and repeat her story to a whole table of lawyers. Mostly, she wondered if this whole ordeal was really worth the stress and money. Some days she was so tempted to break into the hospital pharmacy and liberate all the Ativan she could find. Something to steady her frayed nerves and help her sleep at night. It was hard to work, hard to function with the case whirling around her head. It was hell, being a celebrity of the week when one had patients to see. How could anyone respect her professionally when it seemed like her entire sad, sordid, little life story was splashed incessantly across the tabloids. The snide columns on 'did he or didn't he?' What she had to gain by lying. Random idiots who stepped forward to offer this opinion or that, and stories, mostly false, on, "Oh, I knew her/him way back when, and let me tell you. . . "

To wit, it was simply awful, truly horrendous. And, at the end of every day, Tsukushi would stagger home, mindlessly stuff some food into her mouth, and collapse into bed. When she could, she'd avoid most of the F4, lest any of them spring more unpleasant surprises on her. She stopped reading the paper, or listening to the radio, afraid that she'd hear her name mentioned. She even refused to find out who these so-called character witnesses were that Tsukasa had supposedly drummed up. Hah! Witnesses! With her luck, she wouldn't be surprised if Tsukasa had drummed up some false-witnesses. Childhood friends who never existed, or some such thing.

And then there was Rui. Something had clearly upset him. She'd thought things might start to be okay after their date. She'd even dared to hope. But his mood had turned sour and distant, and she found herself slipping back into doctor-mode around him. Fussing, and fretting, wanting to yell at him, slap him, hold his hand, all at the same time. She was trying, she truly was. She'd eat dinner with him, she'd watch TV or a movie with him, she'd hold his hand and hug him. She'd even tried to kiss him again. But it was awkward. He held her hand tighter than he needed to, hugged her longer than felt right. Kissed her as though it was the last kiss they'd ever share. As if he was afraid that each moment she spent with him would be her last. She tried sleeping with him one night, but it felt wrong. They'd kissed and cuddled. But when he tried to press for more, she'd frozen up. She blamed the stress of this upcoming thing with Junpei, making her relive the pain of the past too much to accept a better present. Rui had blamed himself. She was too embarrassed to try again. There was something missing.

And one day Tsukushi woke up finding herself looking forward to her daily fight with Tsukasa (the one over nothing in particular, that seemed to happen most every day, no matter how she tried to avoid the glowering man). Somehow, she always felt better after yelling her lungs out at him (though if you had asked her while one of these fights was occurring, she would have said she hated every second, that he made her want to cry, made her so mad that she wanted to claw the eyes from his smug face.) The truth was, now that Akira and Soujiro were so often out of town, and Rui in such a bad mood, her fights with Tsukasa were her only mode of stress relief, the only way she could relieve the tension of a life gone mad. Tsukasa knew it, in his sneaky instinctual way, knew it because he enjoyed the fights as well, and went out of his way to provoke the spitfire doctor. She may have been clueless, but Rui wasn't, and the tension between him and Tsukasa ratcheted even higher.

But then finally, it was time. Time for her court appearance. All the preliminary shit was done. All the motions and the legal wrangling, the jury selection and Tsukushi didn't know what all else. She'd set aside her precious vacation time for this, and it didn't make her happy.

Early the morning of the opening day of the trial, Tsukushi found herself sneaking up to her only hiding place, up on top of the roof, before even the crack of dawn. She had to be quiet, when scrabbling up the roof, as all the F4 were home, had ceased temporarily their schemes on the behalf of their band to come stand behind her. She would have felt an increase in morale from this, maybe, if she hadn't been so tightly wound, so tense—feeling as if her whole body, heart, and soul were one big unhealed wound, an itchy scab of life, seething with the pus of unhappiness. Ugh.

She wasn't quiet enough though, and not long after she'd curled up to watch the sunrise over the hazy city, she heard the window below open up, saw Soujiro's sleep-tousled head pop out, the rest of him follow, as he climbed up to join her. Almost as though he'd been waiting for her, expecting her to come here. Damnit, she really had no privacy.

"Heya, doc." He greeted, settling down comfortably next to her. "Ready for the big day?"

"No." she scowled. "All I can think of, is how much I hate this, How much it hurts, and for what? I'm going to have to walk into that courtroom and confront Jun again, in front of everyone. And he's going to lie, and I'm going to look like a fool. The papers will be full of it, criticizing and castigating, and nothing is going to change. He's not going to stop hounding me, just because I went public. And it's never going to end. All that will change, is that I'm going to be humiliated in public. And every one will know. When it's over, will I even be able to go back to my job? I'll be marked. My patients won't respect me, my colleagues will laugh behind my back. All these years of education wasted. All this time, because goddamned Tsukasa Doumyouji thought he could help. Help! This isn't help, this is hell!" And then to her utter mortification and chagrin, she began to cry. This did not bode well for her ability to put on a public appearance in court.

Soujiro stared at her for one long moment. Gently, he put an arm around the sobbing doctor and made quiet little shh-ing noises, until she started to calm down. Damnit, he didn't know what he could say to make her feel better, when privately he thought that she might be right. So he didn't say anything, just held her more tightly, and let her cry on his shoulder while he watched the sun rise, tinting the city in shades of rust and blood through the smoggy haze. Not a great omen, that.

"Thanks." Tsukushi finally raised her blushing face, "I didn't mean to fall apart on you like that."

"'S'okay." Soujiro shrugged, as it if didn't really matter, "What I'm here for. Just remember, when you're up there on the stand, that we're all going to be right there with you. We've got your back."

"Thanks." Tsukushi murmured again, but her attempt at a smile fell flat. What good would it do for them to support her, anyway? They hadn't been there, way back when, and their presence would clearly lend itself to the air of conspiracy around the whole affair. Maybe she should just back out. Say she no longer wanted to pursue this case? But no, she was Dr. Tsukushi Makino, and she didn't give up, no matter what the odds. This had been started, and she would have to see it through, whatever her feelings on the matter.

"Remember," Soujiro murmured, "If you lose, which you won't, Tsukasa will personally crush Jun's balls." He illustrated the concept with a viciously clenched fist, "Either way, we'll make sure, he never shows his face again. And everything else, it'll work itself out. If you lose your job, we'll hire you. Hell, Tsukasa can afford it, and we need all the help we can get." He was trying to make her laugh, but he failed. She just sat there and sniffled, her bloodshot eyes reflecting the morning sun.

"Come on." Soujiro urged, "Let's go inside. You need coffee. And you should try on the outfit Akira bought for you for today."

"What?" Tsukushi screeched. Damn, she should have known. "I have clothes." And who knows what the hell the two fool boys would have picked out. Especially given how their other shopping expeditions on her behalf had gone.

"Yeah but, for court you need something. . . special."

"Yeah, I've seen your idea of 'special'" Tsukushi sighed, as they climbed back down into the house.

"No no!" Soujiro laughed, and led the way back to her room, "Not like that. For court, you need to look elegant, refined . . ."

"Classy." Akira interrupted, seemingly popping out of nowhere. Nobody ever seemed to mind their own business around this house.

"And my normal clothes?" Tsukushi bridled indignantly.

"Are frumpy." Akira pronounced, holding out his selection.

"Frumpy?" Tsukushi fumed, "Respectable, more like."

"No." Akira gestured again, "This suit is respectable."

"And these are for underneath!" Grinning, Soujiro held out some lace nothings.

"The hell you say?" Tsukushi's face was now bright red.

"See, Life is about image." Akira began to lecture, refusing to budge as Tsukushi tried to herd him from her room, "As rock stars, we know all about image, which is why you need us to advise you. For this event, this venue, as it were, you need to project a certain image."

"You want to look respectable."

"Like someone telling the truth."

"You want to look attractive."

"Like someone that could have attracted a hot guy like Jun."

"You don't want to look frumpy."

"Frumpy spells frigid, No one feels sorry for you then."

"They see frumpy, they see ice bitch, they say you deserved it."

"You want to look innocent."

"But strong"

"No one likes a victim"

"But why the thong?"

"Because how you feel underneath affects the way you present on the outside," Akira explained patiently.

"Yeah, why do you think Tsukasa goes commando at every concert?"

"He's gotta let it all hang out!"

"I don't want to know!" Tsukushi finally grabbed the heap of clothes foisted upon her, if for no other reason than to give her an excuse to turn and hide her helplessly blushing face as her brain froze at the unwonted visual that sprang to mind at Soujiro and Akira's words. "Now get out and make me some coffee! Please."

"Yes Ma'am!" Akira flicked a mock salute, while Soujiro just gave Tsukushi an encouraging wink and left the room. Rather than find herself losing another fight, Tsukushi just sighed and put on the clothes the boys had bought for her. Honestly, sometimes she had to wonder if they might not be secretly gay, what with their fascination with fashion and all. Whatever, the suit fit eerily well, the cut flattering her slender hips and waist, making her silhouette appear more feminine than it was, but still giving the appearance of professional grace. She shrugged. She still felt the same on the inside. Tired, full of bile and acid, discouraged and lonely. Heart beating like dread knocking on the door.

Two hours later, however, she found herself outside the city courthouse, valiantly holding in the cringe she felt at the sight of the mob-scene that awaited her. She'd come alone, the F4 thinking it in her best image to not be seen as being "with them" in public. Instead, she'd driven in, alone, parked quite some way away, and walked up, almost unnoticed in the gathering throng of paparazzi. Almost that is, until she got closer to the door, closer to the press of people, and inadvertently bumped into a camera-man. Who turned to curse her out, recognized her face from the files that had been going around, and alerted the rest of his team. And that was that. It could have turned into a media frenzy, it should have done so. The press corps had been sorely disappointed that so little was really known about the woman bringing charges against the famous Junpei Oribe, disappointed that even knowing Tsukushi's identity, so few reliable people had stepped forward to inform the world of who she was, and how she knew Jun. Even more disappointed that the woman herself, before now, had made no personal appearances, no press releases or commentary. Nothing. There was speculation and rampant gossip aplenty sure, but that couldn't take the place of facts, of the woman herself. And now here she was, shorter than they'd expected, but more poised (confusing the rigid spine of defiance as that of graceful poise). Walking through the crowd as if she belonged here, as if she was at home in this place, not like that Junpei, whose limo had weaved through the crowd, to deposit him, with his brace of security guards and his phalanx of lawyers at the foot of the courthouse steps. He'd run in, shielding his face from the cameras and the waving microphones, in the media-shy manner of all celebrities under fire. Dr. Makino, in contrast, hardly seemed to notice the cameras, walked with her head held high, eyes fixed on her goal. She could hardly have done anything more to guarantee herself a good initial impression in the media. In her ignorance of proper etiquette of the suddenly famous, she even apologized, red-faced, to those she brushed against on her way inside. She felt embarrassed ad humiliated. She thought she looked a fool. But she made it inside at last, biting her lip almost until it bled to keep from crying.

And then her lawyers were there. The men and women in suits that Tsukasa had found for her, and they were talking and directing her, but she didn't hear their words. She felt numb, recognizing the symptoms of derealization in herself, but no longer capable of caring. The blood in her ears, the pounding of her heart, the tightness in her chest. The familiar feelings of rising panic.

Around her, the chamber was filling. She couldn't even bring herself to wonder who the audience was, couldn't force herself to look back and see if the F4 were present, as promised, or even to search out what unlikely individuals had been called as witnesses.

A lawyer was talking. Pacing. Gesturing. Was it one of hers or one of his? She had no idea.

Tsukushi let herself tune out, as the opening argument was made. At the defendant's table, Junpei was slouched, looking unrepentant and bored. Hiding his thoughts behind heavy-lidded eyes. Occasionally he glanced her way, and then the hunger was more apparent. The predatory gleam, as if this challenge was merely one more hurdle he had to leap in pursuit of his goals. He still didn't believe he was guilty. She'd been his girlfriend, damnit. She'd no right to deny him so long as she'd done. No right to turn on him. Funny how he still wanted her, could still, after all these years, remember the feel of her mouth on his, the first innocent kisses of hers that he'd stolen. Her wide brown eyes looking up at him so trustingly. It had all been going so well. If only she hadn't been such a prude.

If only she hadn't made him love her—that happily innocent and friendly girl. The girl who represented everything good that he was not, everything good that he had never had.

If only she hadn't made him love her, than he wouldn't have twisted her, and hurt her, and made her more like him.

His lawyers hadn't liked his version of the truth. They'd told him to stick to the script when called to the stand.

They hadn't understood.

The jury sitting there, pretending to be impartial, they didn't understand.

Nor did the judge, the audience . . . none of them did.

He bet that Tsukushi understood. She could have told him why he'd done it. She always did understand everyone else better than she understood herself. He'd even believe that Tsukasa understood; they always had been more alike than either would like to admit. If things had been different, they could have been the same. It was only luck that Tsukasa had turned out one way and Junpei another. Only luck.

Jun turned and looked back, locking eyes with the leader of the F4. Steely hatred glaring back. Their rivalry apparent; they knew what this was really about. They both wanted her heart, and they were selfish enough to want to destroy the other for it. Junpei had tried flowers and gifts to win her back, he'd tried calling, and waiting, he'd had her friend Yuki carry messages. He'd followed her, and watched her, but it hadn't been enough. And now Tsukasa was trying to destroy him. If he could do the same, would she come back to him then? If he removed the meddlesome musician—then could he regain everything that he'd lost; his career, his pride, his Tsukushi? It was a possibility, and Junpei sat back to contemplate just how he would get out of this mess.

The day wore on, the first witnesses called. Vaguely Tsukushi wondered when she would have to take the stand. She closed her ears to the droning voices, let her mind wander far away in the private places of her mind. The order of testimony made no sense to her, but she supposed the lawyers must have a plan. First came a long list of people she didn't know, character witnesses against Jun, she supposed, setting him up as the type of person who could do such a thing. She wondered where Tsukasa had found them, but honestly, she felt so numb inside she couldn't be bothered to care. So numb, she no longer even felt the burning heat of Junpei's eyes on her. Numb was a good place to be, and Tsukushi wondered why she couldn't feel like this more often.

Finally the court was adjourned for the day, Tsukushi couldn't figure out why. She still hadn't testified. By the time she'd snuck out, narrowly avoiding an encounter with Jun (hastily blocked by his lawyers), navigated through the media mob, and driven home, her walls of unfeeling were beginning to crumble. By the time she'd stumbled up the stairs and into her room to change into her rattiest and most comfortable clothes, her beautiful numbness had completely dissolved, leaving her awash in a backlash of misery. She was twitching at every noise, unable to get the image of Jun's hungry eyes out of her mind. She could still hear the voices of the lawyers droning on, the interruptions of the lawyers and the judge. She hated it, every second of this wasted day. Killing her with things she didn't want to remember much less dwell on for that long. This wasn't catharsis, this was torture.

Tsukushi sat on her bed and began to shake. She didn't dare watch TV for fear she'd see herself, hear the things they were saying about her. She didn't have the appetite to eat. It was too early to sleep. She could go for a run, maybe. But she was certain everyone was watching her, would be talking about her behind her back. So this was what paranoid felt like. Tsukushi wondered if she were having a schizophrenic break. An episode of brief psychotic disorder? Best not to think about it.

Tsukushi curled tightly up on her bed trying not to think of anything, and desperately trying to convince herself that everything was ok—that in a few days or weeks all this would be put behind her for good, and that things would get better. But she knew better, nothing ever really goes away, and the past always remains to haunt us. She was still curled up shaking, when the F4 finally came home, when her door opened and Soujiro snuck in.

"Hey doc? Doc? Are you okay?" Gingerly, he sat down next to her, noting sadly, that she was back to flinching at his presence, as if that one day in court had undone all the weeks and months that she'd spent getting used to having friends. Male friends who wanted to be near her, wanted to touch her. "Umm. . . I guess you're not?" the understatement of the year, "It went well today. The Jury looks sympathetic. . . umm. . ." but she just looked away. She didn't want to hear about. "Ah. . . you have to testify tomorrow. . . Damnit Tsukushi, will you please just look at me? She refused. She'd cried on him once today. She didn't want him to see the tears in her eyes again. Soujiro tried again, changing the topic to get her attention. "Listen Tsukushi, you've got a bunch of phone messages. Someone's been calling the house all day. No idea how they got the number. It's unlisted. They're very persistent. . . There's like 10 messages on the machine. . . some guy, says his name is Susumu?. . . ."

"My brother." Tsukushi spoke distantly, without looking up.

"You have a brother?" Soujiro had never heard her mention her family. But then he didn't speak much of his either. " Did you give him our phone number? He left a number. You want to call him back? He sounded worried."

"No." Tsukushi sighed. She couldn't remember the last time she'd spoken to him in person, done anything more than send mostly meaningless emails once every few months. She hadn't spoken to her parents in even longer. Hadn't been able to face them in so long. She hadn't grown into the person they'd hoped she would, she hadn't been able to face their love, their nagging, their anything, when most days she couldn't even honestly face herself. With an effort she roused herself from her memories to reply to Soujiro's question, "He's, what? A sophomore in college, studying CS. He's turning into quite the little hacker, I guess." She shrugged and lapsed into silence again.

"So, you going to call him back?" Soujiro prodded.

"No." Still she refused to meet his eyes, and suddenly Soujiro was angry.

"No? Just like that? When was the last time you spoke to your family? It's obvious that he cares. I would give almost anything to have my little brother call me, and here you are turning your brother down. Don't do that."

"What happened to your family?" Tsukushi spoke quietly, sounding even more subdued than before. She just didn't want to deal with her family. If they'd seen the news, and how could they not—why else would Susumu be calling Now?—they must be horrified, shocked at the things she'd never told them. How could she face them now, when her entire personal life was being stripped naked in front of the public eye?

"They disowned me, when I joined the band." Soujiro was now even more subdued than Tsukushi. "I haven't spoken to them in years, not since my little brother was 12. . . They always know my phone, number. I make sure of that. But no one ever calls." Sometimes he missed them so much, missed seeing his little brother grow up, the fights he'd had with his elder brother, even the endless arguments and screaming matches he'd used to have with his parents.

"I'm sorry. . . I didn't know." Finally, Tsukushi sat up, looked at Soujiro sympathetically. There was always room in her heart to care about others before herself.

"Yeah well." Soujiro tried to shrug it off, "So, call your brother. If he's willing to go through the effort to find you like that, he'll understand whatever you have to say. Here." He offered Tsukushi his phone. Slowly, thoughtfully, she took it, dialed the hastily scrawled number, took a deep and shuddering breath and hit send. One ring. . . two. . . her chest felt tight and she couldn't breathe. But it was just her brother. Just her brother. . . three rings. . . and he picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hiya kid." Tsukushi couldn't quite hide the stammer in her voice.

"Tsukushi!" Even sitting back as he was, Soujiro could hear the shout from the phone. And then the floodgates opened. "Sis, what the hell is going on? Mom and dad are going out of their minds with worry. You never call. You moved and didn't tell us! Hell, you changed your phone number. You never visit! And then, you know mom and dad hate TV, but it's even in the papers now. I don't read the paper either, but my roommate does. . . It just took him a few weeks to wonder if the Makino mentioned was related to me, and bloody hell, sis, I almost didn't know when I read it myself! Why didn't you ever tell us? Is that why you never come home any more?" Like many teenagers, Susumu hardly felt the need to stop for air, and kept on talking, completely oblivious to the growing panic of his sister on the other end of the line. But Soujiro noticed, as how could he not, and stepped in, removing the phone from Tsukushi's numb fingers.

"Hey kid." Soujiro spoke sternly. Jolting Susumu out of his train of thought. "Stop yelling. I can hear you from across the room, and you're freaking your sister out. Don't make me regret making her call you. Give her a chance to speak, will you?"

"Who the hell are you!" was Susumu's outraged reply, but too late as Soujiro had already passed the phone back to the now wanly smiling Tsukushi.

"Susumu. . .." Tsukushi trailed off, regrouped her scattered thoughts, "Things have been. . . difficult. You know how poorly dad has been doing the past few years. I didn't want to worry anyone. He's got enough stress what with the company lay-offs and everything." Susumu just let out a disbelieving snort at his sister's excuses. "I had hoped that things would never get this far. That you guys would never have to know." Shit, she was starting to cry again.

"But Sis. . ." Susumu protested, "We're your family. You do realize that no matter what, we're always behind you, right? I don't care what the TV says. You're my sister. But don't shut us out. We love you. And we miss you, mom especially. We know you haven't been the same since college—but Sis, maybe if you'd told us. We could have done something. . . But to find out about your life through the TV? It's just not right."

"I'm sorry." Tsukushi sniffled. But still, she really didn't want to talk about it.

"Anyway," Susumu could hear her sniffles, and it just felt oh-so-very-wrong for his sister—his big sister who had always been the strong one when he was growing up—to be crying in front of him, that he had to do something to lighten the mood. "Anyway, I just had to call to see how you were, if you needed anything, and to tell you to please call mom and dad, before they go insane. You don't have to tell them anything you don't want. But please, Tsukushi, just call . . . And, hey, wait a sec. Just who is that guy who stole the phone? Is he your boyfriend or something?"

"No!" Tsukushi spluttered, "No no no, that was Soujiro, he's Not my boyfriend." She watched Soujiro's eyes widen, as he started to laugh at that idea.

"Wait. . ." Susumu started suspiciously. "I read something about you and the F4. This wouldn't be The Soujiro Nishikado, would it?"

"Yeah. . . it would be."

"Damn!" Susumu cursed in near-awe, "My girlfriend used to have the biggest crush ever on him! Well, I suppose you could do worse. At least he looks relatively normal, not like that creepy Rui Hanazawa guy, or that scary looking Tsukasa thug."

"Umm. . . Susumu. We're not. . ."

"But the stories! My girlfriend says he's like the biggest playboy ever. . .here she wants to talk to you."

"No, no, no. Susumu. Don't!" Tsukushi warned.

"But sis!"

Soujiro, who had been eavesdropping unashamedly had begun to laugh at Susumu's assumptions, gave into temptation at last and stole the phone once more. "Hey kid? I didn't sleep with your girl by accident did I?"

"What the hell! No."

"Oh good. But hey, I got a few words of advice for you. If you know what's good for you, you won't go bad mouthing Rui or Tsukasa to your sister, or someday you're going to wake up to find the news has a nasty surprise fro you."

"The hell? Put my sister back on. I want to know what the hell is going on. Why is she all mixed up with you freaks?"

"Uh uh uh." Soujiro shook his head. "Look kid, I know you want to interrogate your sister, but trust me on this. Now is not a good time. She's kinda stressed right now, if you hadn't noticed. And you're not really helping. If you keep up like this, I'm not going to be able to persuade her to call another time, you see? So here's what we're going to do. You're on your cell phone, yes? So you got the number she called from? Great. Now, this is my cell number. You call your parents and you give them this number and you tell them that if they want to speak to the doc, they call me, and I'll track your sister down and make sure she speaks to them, ok? But only as long as they refrain from stressing her out, ok? She's not that much fun to live with when she's flipping out. . . Ow! Hey!" Tsukushi had hit him in indignation at the liberties he was taking. "And she's violent too! Hey quit it!" Tsukushi renewed her assault, trying to regain control o the telephone, while Soujiro fended her off, "Ok, kid. You got all that. Good. Now don't worry. Tsukushi's in good hands." Or so he would like to think. Decisively, he ended the call, leaving a bemused Susumu to sit in his dorm room, staring at the phone, trying to make sense of what was really going on in his sister's life. Rape trials, rock stars, it was all beyond him. He just wanted his sister to be happy again. Like she hadn't been in almost longer than he could remember. But at least that Soujiro guy seemed to care, even if he was bossy. Susumu wondered what the rest of the band was like, and what the true story was behind his sister's involvement with them. More intrigued now, he moved to his computer to search out the gossip and speculation. Who were these guys, really, and what could they do for his sister? Could they make her smile again, the way she had when he was young?

In her room, Tsukushi had given up on regaining the phone, mainly because Soujiro had retaliated for her assault by tickling her until she was paralyzed, her chest heaving with suppressed laughter, her eyes sparkling the way they were meant to be. "See now, that wasn't so bad." Soujiro spoke, satisfied that she wouldn't be smacking him upside the head anytime soon, "He seems like a nice kid."

"Yeah. He is." Tsukushi agreed absently, "I didn't know he had a girlfriend, though. They grow up so fast."

"Yeah." Soujiro flopped down beside her, "they always do. That's why you've got to enjoy life while you can."

"Yeah?" Tsukushi raised an eyebrow, "I think I once said that to you."

"Indeed. And I'm taking it. It's good advice. You should listen to yourself more often."

"Really?" She couldn't help but ask, "Are you enjoying life yet?" The words unsaid, _or are you still unable to put the memory of Sara to rest?_

"Working on it." Soujiro replied enigmatically, lacing his arms behind his head and staring at the ceiling. "I'm working on it."

TBC.

--- hm. So the plan is to punt over the nitty gritty details of the trial in the next chapter and focus more on what really matters (whatever my little brain says that it.) and, as some readers correctly guessed, there will be guest star appearances by characters not other wise mentioned in order to beat sense into those who most need it. Maybe, if time, there will be TxT interactions, or TxR. But its so hard sometimes to fight my 'natural instincts' yeah you knowwhat that is, TxS. Which meant that this chapter was Heavily edited post first draft to tone TxS back down to purely platonic levels. Sigh. Stupid plot hates that forward motion. And for those who wonder who the 'victor' will be, R or T, step a back a moment, and think about my non-linear logic, and what other options this psycho author might explore, eh? So much drama. Anyway, next update might be awhile. Psych rotation over, my next is out of state, and place I'm staying is not so conducive to writing, plus I've no idea the workload of family med. But we'll see. Stress gives me racing thoughts and ideas for chapters but steals the time and focus to write. Maybe if I had a tape recorder I could dictate chapters during my morning commute? Hmmm. .. until next time - - - cm - - -


	52. ch 51 in which tsukushi testifies

"Did you see the shape she was in last night? Tsukasa, damnit! She's not going to survive the week at this rate!"

"And for what? It isn't helping anything at all. Did you ever ask what she really wanted done? She didn't want this, I can guarantee you that."

"All she has to do is go and testify." Tsukasa crossed his arms obstinately and glared back at the two men before him.

"That's not All!" Akira growled, "I told you and I told you, look at what this is doing to her life! She has a career."

"Had a career." Soujiro interrupted pessimistically.

"Had a career. Whatever. She did her thing, and so okay she wasn't happy. But she was doing about as well as could be expected before we showed up."

"Arguably," Soujiro put forth, "It's we that have ruined her life."

"Nonsense." Tsukasa spat. "It started with Jun."

"It could have ended there too. So she's fucked up. She was still more functional than us!"

"She's lost another ten pounds since you filed the papers."

"How the hell do you know that shit?"

"I know women." Soujiro shrugged, "besides Akira and I bought the clothes for her court appearance, we had to go down another size than we had reckoned on." He sounded extremely put out by this.

"But that's besides the point." Akira continued, "Just let her end it, before she has to take the stand. Jun's got good lawyers, the cross-examination is going to be brutal. Don't put her through that shit. Rui, come on man, can you back us up?"

Rui, hitherto silent, just shook his head. "What's the point? The damage is done."

"Fuck!" Soujiro cursed, "You're the one who's supposed to be in love with her, big help you are. The hell is wrong with you two?"

"Give it up, Soujiro." Akira pulled on his friend's arm, trying to tug him out of the room. For a moment there, it had looked like Soujiro's temper was going to explode. His or Tsukasa's both. It had been months since they'd last come to blows. Best if they didn't start again now. "It's obvious that they're both lost in testosterone haze. Some Neanderthalithic vision of revenge."

"Revenge I get." Soujiro let himself be pulled away, as Akira headed up the stairs for bed, "But this isn't revenge. She doesn't care about that. She just wants to be let alone."

"You're sure?" Akira gave his friend a rather piercing look.

"Yeah." Soujiro sounded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "She's too compassionate for her own good. If it were up to her, none of this would have happened,"

"If it were up to her," Akira paused as Soujiro climbed into bed, "she never would have met us. So why doesn't she just call the whole thing off, then? I did warn her it wouldn't be pretty. That no good could come of it."

Soujiro just propped himself up on one elbow and stared at Akira as if he were an imbecile. "Think about it a second."

Akira did, his forehead wrinkling in thought for a long moment. Then, "Oh. Shit. Goddamnit!" Now he was the one who wanted to hit someone.

"Yeah." Soujiro sighed. "Took me a while to figure it out too."

"She's doing it because she thinks Tsukasa wants this. That it will help him – us to triumph in our own professional crisis." Akira spoke slowly, testing out the feel of these words spoken aloud. He didn't much like the taste they left in his mouth, and he'd only just brushed his teeth at that.

"MmmHmm. . . " Soujiro sighed, and draped an arm over Akira's chest. "Damn, you just don't feel like a girl."

"Dude, I don't have breasts," Akira frowned at Soujiro's abrupt change of topic, "And speaking of which – it's been a long time since you slept out. What's up with that? Become addicted to the sound of my snoring? Or wait – don't tell me you've turned gay, 'cause I'm seriously not into that shit. Sometime, you know I would like the bed to myself."

"No. . ." Soujiro denied, ignoring Akira's last complaint, "Just haven't been in the mood is all."

"What? You catch some STD? You sure you're feeling all right?"

"I'm fine. As well as can be expected." Soujiro sighed, "Just let it drop, ok."

"Whatever. I'm going to sleep." Akira reached over to shut the light off and closed his eyes.

A long time later, Soujiro let out a heavy sigh.

"What?" Akira hadn't been sleeping either.

"I don't want tomorrow to come."

"Shit." Akira grimaced, It had been a long time since Soujiro had sounded so bad. He'd used to say that a lot, back when they'd been three, with nothing to look forward on the new day's dawning, except a drunken Tsukasa and another day of misery. "It's going to be okay. Really. The doc's strong. She'll be fine." Trying to convince himself as much as Soujiro.

"Not as strong as you'd think. You should know that by now."

"What do you mean?"

"Like us. Like me. I look pretty good on the outside most days right?"

"Yeah."

"But how many people know this? That I can't sleep alone? That's weak."

"But you have us." Akira felt a pang, knowing the truth of his friend's words.

"And she has?"

"She has us, too."

"We're the ones weakening her."

"You think too much." Akira reached over and gave Soujiro's shoulders a rough squeeze. "You keep that up, I'll start to confuse you with Rui."

"Ummm. . . ." Soujiro lapsed into a contemplative silence. A silence that stretched on, and lasted the remainder of the night.

And then it was morning. Tsukushi stumbled through breakfast, numb with dread. She hardly acknowledged the concerned looks of the F4 around the breakfast table, the way Rui hugged her on her way down the stairs, or the way Tsukasa's gaze followed her out the door. She didn't see Akira's wan smile of encouragement or Soujiro's thumbs up. All she saw was the haze of tiredness that turned her world to grey. She hadn't slept. And her insomniac mantra, her ritual chant, "I'm ok. It will be ok. . . ." It hadn't soothed her at all. She no longer believed in it.

Somehow, she got to the courthouse, found her seat, sat rigidly waiting for her turn in hell. She never saw the eyes that had followed her, as she walked down the hallway on the way to the courtroom. The recognition and the sudden anger, the search for those to blame. The silent vow. Behind Tsukushi, waiting his turn on the witness stand, Dr. Amon Kunisawa clenched his fists in fury, and reminded himself why he was here.

The morning wore on, Tsukushi forcing herself to remain numb to the events around her. And then, too soon, she was called to the stand. She felt as though her legs had turned to jelly as she stood up, walked the few paces across the room, swore her oath and took a seat. She bit her lip so hard to stop the trembling, that it bled. Before her, she could only see Jun, staring at her avidly, a hungry longing in his eyes. She dared not look back, to where the F4 sat, she didn't want to read in their eyes too, how pathetic she looked up here, what a fool she made of herself. She didn't consider herself a brave person, merely one who did what had to be done. Did this have to be done? She still didn't know. But the only way out is through, and so she sat, and when asked, repeated her story, as concisely as she could. And while her voice started out clear and strong, her best attempt at maintaining her poise, it wasn't long before it trembled and broke, the tears springing embarrassingly to her eyes. By the time she'd ended, she was red-faced, sniveling in embarrassment as much as in shame and anger. How she hated the false sympathy exuding from the crowd, the eyes watching her, evaluating, the Jury wondering did she tell truth or lie, were her tears an act? This was not how she wanted to be seen, not the way she would have preferred her life to be judged.

A few more innocent questions from her lawyers, the prosecution diligently doing their job to clarify and verify, to strengthen her case. And then, the cross examination, the lawyer standing tall, sneering in a cold baritone at her, nastily trying to shred holes in her story, probing if perhaps she was lying, if she hadn't been a willing girlfriend to Jun. What she had to gain by this charade. And then, after all that, the questions she'd been dreading even more, the fiasco that she knew would come.

"Isn't it true, Dr. Makino, that you've become. . . friendly. . . with the members of the band F4?"

"Umm. . . yes. . but. . "

"And isn't it true that you were also their psychiatrist for quite some time?"

"Only for Mr. Hanazawa and Mr. Doumyouji."

"Ah, indeed, I was under the impression that you'd treated all four."

"Well you were mistaken." She snapped back, her nerves strained to the breaking point, wishing he would just ask what he wanted and get it over with.

Finally, the objection by her lawyer, what relevance did this questioning have, and the judge's response, that the prosecution should hurry up and get to the point.

"The point. Yes well then, Dr Makino. It has come to my client's attention that you have behaved most unprofessionally towards your patients . . . Isn't it true, Dr. Makino, that you have become. . .shall we say, Involved with the F4?"

"I don't know what you're trying to imply." Tsukushi snapped, though she knew quite well, "Are you asking if I've fucked the F4?" Across the courtroom, there were scattered gasps and laughter, and a huge scowl from the judge at her choice of words, but Tsukushi barreled on, unheeding, her characteristic bluntness taking over, "Then, No. I've had no orgies with the band. What the hell do you think? It is true, however, that I've become friends with the band, and I have moved in with them on a temporary basis, but only after we severed our client-doctor relationship." She was skimming the verge of the truth here, but her anger served her well.

"So you're saying you haven't had sexual relations with the F4? Not even Soujiro Nishikado?"

"I most certainly have not!" Tsukushi was getting more upset the longer this conversation continued, "Just because Soujiro is a bit of a philanderer, does not mean that I ever had any desire to join the notches on his bedpost. Now I still don't see where the relevance of this is to what happened between Jun and I seven years ago"

"But it is true, is it not, that you are involved in an intimate way with Tsukasa Doumyouji? Remember, you have sworn an oath to tell the truth," the lawyer persisted gamely. Junpei had sworn up and down that Dr. Makino had to be putting out for the band.

"No, I am not." Tsukushi stated flatly, glaring at the lawyer with all the hate she could muster.

"Remember your oath." The lawyer admonished firmly, "You were seen, even photographed, with Mr. Doumyouji in a most compromising position, and you now live with him, do you still deny that you are involved in a most unprofessional relationship with your former patient?"

"I am not now involved with, nor have I ever," Tsukushi bit off each word clearly and distinctly, "had sex with Tsukasa Doumyouji. Those tabloid pictures you refer to happened to catch us the day that a) we agreed to sever our professional relationship, and b) more importantly, that Mr. Doumyouji found out about my past history with Mr. Oribe. Moreover, while since then, it might be said that our friendship and cohabitation is unethical, I don't see how that is in the least related to this case now. If, in the future, either Mr. Hanazawa or Mr. Doumyouji wishes to sue me for malpractice over my behavior towards them, they would be well within their rights to do so, and my malpractice insurance would not cover it, based on our living situation. This is true. But that is between them and me. Now get to the point or let me get off the stand." In the back of the audience, Tsukasa was grinning a fiercely predatory grin, proud of Tsukushi's performance. She was holding up well, telling the truth while letting the critical points slide, evading the traps as they sprang at her. He'd known she'd rise to the occasion. Her prickly personality may not win her empathy points, but her outrage came off sincerely, and made her sound all that much more truthful. Akira and Rui, were breathing secret sighs of relief that the lawyer hadn't considered them as more obvious targets to question Tsukushi about. Tsukasa hadn't realized how narrow his escape had been, hadn't realized that perhaps he should be thankful, for Tsukushi's own sake now, that she hadn't yet succumbed to his pursuit.

The lawyer looked skeptical, allowing himself one sarcastic shrug before continuing once more, "Indeed, Dr Makino? Then you deny that it was the influence of the F4 that put you up to this charade? You deny that this is merely a ploy to smear the reputation of an innocent man, so that those four men you call "friends" can achieve their own financial goals?"

"Charade?" Tsukushi fumed, furious now, and wondering why her lawyers had let this go on. This treatment was out of line, and had no place in a court of law. "You dare call this a charade?"

"Miss Makino. . . please calm down. . . "

"That's Doctor Makino." And now her eyes were spitting fury. "My life is not a charade. You think I wanted to be here? This, this shit! This charade, as you call it, is ruining my life. There are two reasons I'm here, that I will admit." She stormed on, barreling over the judge who looked as though he were strongly tempted to rule her in contempt. "The first reason, is not because I want money from Jun, or because I want to punish him. All it is, is that I want to be left alone. I could live with the fact that he raped me. I was prepared never to tell anyone about it, but just to get on with my life. But unfortunately for me, our paths crossed again. And this time, he would not let me be. The police wouldn't do anything when I told them he was following me. So what could I do about his harassment? I thought maybe, just maybe, if I went public, he'd have to leave me alone So no, I'm not here for a charade, I'm not here because I wanted this utter humiliation. None of you fuckers need to know about my private life. If Jun could just have left me alone, this wouldn't have happened. But you know what, you were right about the second thing, I am here because the F4 wanted me to. They thought the world should know the scum that Junpei is. I don't necessarily agree, but there it is. I don't however lie. Anyone who knows me knows that. Its not my fault if you can't handle the truth." She was panting now, and realizing this, she finally shut up. Staring at the lawyer as if daring him to question her.

"Really?" he tried once more, "You're not in it for the money? It's a hefty sum of damages you're asking."

"Yes. It is." Tsukushi agreed, her jaw clenched, "To be entirely honest, it's about what we guessed would bankrupt Jun. My lawyers made me a chart of how we justified it all, based on my emotional suffering, and lost wages from the shit hitting the fan as a result of this fiasco, plus my medical bills for the therapy that I should be in myself, and all that shit. But the truth is that it is totally based on what we think he can pay. It's also true that I'm not getting one single cent of it. If you had read your files we sent you more carefully, you'd see that of any potential awards I receive, I have signed it all away, promising that, after my lawyer's fees, one third is going to the soup kitchen that I volunteer at, one third is going to a heroin addiction treatment program for the local homeless community, and one third is going to a rape crisis intervention program. So you can stop with your fucking implications that I'm in this for the money. Because I don't want it."

"Bravo." Soujiro murmured in the back row, sorely tempted to clap his hands. Tsukushi was holding up better than he'd expected, as if her outrage fueled her spirit. He only hoped that she could keep it up for the rest of the trial.

But then, at last it was over, and Tsukushi returned with a thankful sigh to her seat, as the defense lawyer spoke with a sigh, "No more questions." What a fiasco of a cross examination that had been.

"Great!" Tsukushi's lawyer spoke with glee, as the next witness was called.

"Kazuya Aoike"

Tsukushi flinched visibly, and turned a sickly shade of grey as a short, pleasant-faced young man took the stand. Kazuya didn't look a day over 18, though he was 9 years older than that. Almost as if he hadn't changed a bit since college. He smiled nervously at the jury and judge as he took the oath, and spoke in a rush, as if overwhelmed to be found in such a place. And when he made the mistake of looking over at Tsukushi, he stuttered and stammered apologetically, as if with a bad case of brain-freeze.

"Oh god." Tsukushi groaned, wishing she could die. As if this ordeal weren't humiliating enough, already. It could only make her wonder what further horrors lay in store for her before this trial was over. But now Kazuya was speaking, telling his version of events in a squeakily tremulous voice.

"I went to school, umm, that's college, with Tsukushi, err Ms. Err Dr. Tsukushi. 'Course she wasn't a doctor then, but yeah. We became friends during freshman orientation. Umm, she helped me find my groups, 'cause I was so confused. . . We eventually ended up living in the same dorm. She helped me with my classes, and making friends and everything. She was my best friend, back then. Everyone loved her. Until he came along."

"He?" the prosecutor interjected.

"Yeah. Him. Over there." Kazuya pointed, "Junpei Oribe. He still looks scary."

"Objection!" from the defense lawyer.

"Mr. Aoike, you will refrain from such matters of opinion. Please limit your testimony to the facts." The stern injunction of the judge.

"But isn't opinion important?" Kazuya protested weakly, "How can I tell the story without telling why it happened? I mean, I wasn't exactly there at every hour of every day."

"Evidence, Mr. Aoike, is fact. Not opinion."

"I don't. . . Ok. . whatever." Kazuya gave up and continued, "That creep. Junpei. He started hanging out with Tsukushi's crowd. I overheard him one day telling some of her other friends that she'd been gossiping about them to her and that he knew all their dirty secrets now. But that's not true. Tsukushi would never do a thing like that!"

"Mr. Aoike!"

"What? Oh I was doing it again, wasn't I? Sorry." He look abashed, an embarrassed flush creeping across his face. "Anyway. That's not the worst thing. He threatened me. Told me to stay away from Tsukushi or he'd beat me up. I'm not the kind of guy that gets into fights! I'm not! What was I going to do? Tsukushi was in love with him. Who was she gonna believe? Him or me? And he was scary. A really creepy guy. I stayed away. I failed her. I should have done something. But I was so scared." Kazuya began to sniffle, the prelude to an out-and-out bawl-fest. "I'm sorry, Tsukushi, I really am!" and he was wailing now, as the courtroom looked on in outraged horror. Seven years too late to be of use to anyone.

"And you didn't do anything? Didn't try to warn Tsukushi Makino at all? This girl who'd helped you so much?" The prosecutor interjected before Kazuya's wailing could get any more out of hand.

"No. . ." He moaned, "Well. . . Not at first. I avoided her, but I watched her in class and when I saw her around campus, she looked so unhappy all the time. She didn't have any friends anymore, just him. I had to do something. So maybe it's all my fault really. . . . I waited, one day, when I heard from a friend that their frat was taking a trip and I, I told her."

"What did you tell Dr. Makino?"

"I. I told her what he'd said to me, the threats he'd made, and the nasty things he'd said to her other friends. So It's all my fault, what came after. If I kept my mouth shut like he'd said. She wouldn't have been hurt! It should have been me instead!"

"Oh god." Tsukushi repeated again, as she stared at Kazuya in horror, wanting to tell the man that it wasn't his fault. That it had never been. But from where she sat, she could do nothing, simply listen to her lawyer droning on.

"And what did Dr. Makino say to your allegations?"

"Well," Kazuya sniffled, "She didn't believe me at first. But then, she got this look, you know, of determination. She was so strong. She said that it explained a lot, that she would confront him that night. And she smiled at me." Kazuya closed his eyes at the memory, "You've never seen the sun until you've seen her smile."

"And what happened then?"

"I didn't see her for a few days, "But when I saw her in the café the next week, she looked different. The black eye was obvious. I thought her arms were bruised too, but she was wearing long sleeves, so I don't know for sure. She breathed like it hurt. But that wasn't the worst. She looked older, sadder. She wouldn't talk to me, and I never saw her smile again, not the way she used to. I knew it was my fault, and I admit. I'm not brave. I ran away. I never stopped running since. But I miss her. I miss the Tsukushi I used to know. And something else too," he hastily continued before the lawyer could cut him off, "I hate that Junpei Oribe. I hate him for hurting her. I never knew what he did, or why. But he did hurt her. Of that I have no doubt."

"Thank you, Mr. Aoike. No further questions."

Tsukushi felt her heart breaking again, as if by changing she had failed yet another person, the boy who had been her friend so long ago. The naïve boy she remembered, with the innocent grin and sparkling eyes, older now, sadder, riddled with guilt. She could have prevented it maybe, if she'd explained things to him, that there were things that couldn't be changed, and no one to blame but herself.

"Mr. Aoike." The defense attorney stepped up next, "Isn't it true that you were in love with Tsukushi?"

"What? . . . Well, yeah." Kazuya admitted in a small voice as his cheeks reddened.

"And isn't it true, that you were jealous of Mr. Oribe for catching Tsukushi's eye?"

"Well. . maybe a little."

"And you hoped to win her for yourself, by slandering him in her eyes."

"It wasn't slander! I only told the truth."

"The truth is that you never had a chance with her."

"You don't know anything! You don't know Tsukushi!"

"He. . . loved me?" Tsukushi whispered to herself in shock. She'd never known. Had she really been that oblivious?

"Admit it Mr. Aoike, The only reason you're here right now is to revenge yourself on my client, for shaming you in front of the one girl you wanted to impress."

"Now that's a lie!" Kazuya flared up. "What need do I have for revenge? I ran away, sure, but I'm not a total failure. I made a bundle in the dot com bubble, I've got a beautiful wife I love very much, and a two year old daughter. Who needs revenge? I'm hear because I got a phone call from a very nice lawyer who said that Tsukushi needed my help. So I said sure, I'd testify. I found my own happiness, doesn't she deserve the chance to do the same without the past following her, too?"

"Is that really why you're here? Only out of a selfless sense of obligation? How very noble. But tell the jury the truth, now, that you're still in love with her."

"I have a wife and family." Kazuya set his jaw stubbornly, like a two year-old, "I will say no such thing." He hoped it didn't show, that he was lying. As long as he stuck to his guns a little longer, no one would know. A wife and daughter he might have, but Tsukushi had always been his angel. Always and forever, no matter what life might do to her.

"No further questions." The lawyer sighed in defeat, even as Tsukushi's team rubbed their hands in glee. They hadn't been sure of Kazuya. At first, he'd seemed such a pushover, a shallow fop. But one should never underestimate the power of love and hate. They'd coached him hard, and he'd done his job well.

"The court calls Dr. Amon Kunisawa to the stand."

She'd known it was coming. If they'd got Kazuya, they'd get Amon. Of course. A whole parade of her past. Tsukushi sighed and tried not to look at him, the man who'd taken her broken pieces and forged them into something functional, something that could pass for human. He hadn't done it out of the goodness of his heart, she'd known that, never sure if he'd had a heart or not. She'd never known why he chose to date her, to take her under his wing and teach her the way to act, to get by in a world she could no longer trust. Tsukushi couldn't take it any longer, she lifted her eyes to meet his, the sudden dryness in her throat, the difficulty swallowing telling, her that this was no dream, no lingering nightmare that would vanish when she awoke. He really was there in front of her. Amon Kunisawa, who had never asked her secrets, never said a word about her pain. Who had taken her, and molded her, the way he thought she should be. Like him. And as he winked back at her now, a taunting look, at odds with the cool professionalism of his demeanor, a ripple ran through the courtroom, whispered comments growing to a murmur before being silenced by the banging of the gavel.

"Well, fuck me!" Soujiro exclaimed in the back of the room, his eyes darting back forth.

"He looks. . ." Akira began, "Just like you." his glance settled on Tsukasa.

"We look nothing alike!" Tsukasa fumed. "Nothing at all. The hair. The clothes!" But his friends weren't the only ones who'd noticed a similarity, and heads were turning all over the room, comparing one to the other.

"Explains a lot, doesn't it?" Soujiro whispered, just as the gavel came down, limiting Akira's response to a wide-eyed nod, and a glance towards Tsukushi, as if to ask, why she'd never mentioned the similarity.

Tsukushi hadn't mentioned the fact that Tsukasa and Amon could almost have been clones, as she'd spent the better part of the past few years trying not to think about Amon. Almost as hard as she'd tried not to think about Junpei. But now she didn't have a choice. Like the jury, like Junpei, she was a captive here, forced to listen to testimony she'd rather not hear, details of her life she'd have preferred never to see the light of day. Even the sound of Amon's voice, it weakened her, reminded her of promises she couldn't keep, of words and deeds too long left unsaid, undone. But now the lawyer was speaking, and her traitorous ears couldn't stop the words.

"Dr. Kunisawa has agreed to join us today, not only in his capacity as an old friend of Dr. Makino, but also, in his medical capacity as well, as an expert witness for the prosecution."

"And just what sort of expert opinions will this man be rendering?" the judge rasped impatiently. He was becoming rather put out with the prosecution's showmanship and poorly managed witnesses. With a wave of his hand, he peremptorily summoned the two opposing lawyers to approach the bench for a private consultation.

"He is prepared to detail psychiatric opinions as to the extent of the emotional damage the plaintiff has suffered at the hands of the accused." Explained the prosecutor to the judge's questioning glance.

"Oh really?" the defense attorney interjected, "It was my understanding that this man is a surgeon, not a psychiatrist."

"True. If you'd prefer, we could have an eminent psychiatrist come and say the exact same things, you'll note, we've got a couple in the witness list. But this man is a doctor. And he knows the plaintiff well. We thought we'd kill two birds with one stone. After all, the psychiatrist we consulted said, and I quote, "'Any child could diagnose a psych patient, ever since they wrote that damned book.' The book he's referring to, being the DSM-IV-R, soon to be the DSM-V, the current manual of psychiatric diagnoses. He went on to say that based on his judgment, Dr. Makino is a classic case. So, yeah, we can have the expert expert come in and say these things, but it would just waste more time. So can we get on with it?"

"This is highly irregular, you realize."

"Yes, we do, but we have confidence in our case."

"You'd better." A stern warning, "I'll let it pass, but it's my opinion you're making a mistake."

Indeed, the defense attorney was practically having hysterics thinking of all the ways he could undermine the credibility and authority of this witness. How hard could it be? A surgeon, and only a resident at that, professing to play shrink to his ex-girlfriend. What was the world coming to? The man laughed, and went back to his seat, imagining what a great reality show this farce would have been.

"All right then," the prosecutor cleared his throat, "Dr. Kunisawa, how do you know the plaintiff?"

And with that little prompting, Amon began to speak. . . .

TBC

- - - I admit, not the greatest place to end the chapter. Nor is it the most exciting chapter in the world. But there it is. Hard to find time to continue a thought these days, when I'm working 730-530, and driving 90 miles a day on top of that. But I did have a great thought for a plot twist in this never ending soap opera the other day. Only time will tell if it gets written that way or not. Or even if this damned thing will ever end. But trust me, its unlikely to end the way you expect. Or the way many seem to want. (which is true no matter what I do, as everyone has their own ideas as to what they want). - - -


	53. ch 52 in which Amon testifies

"We met in Medical school." Amon spoke in a clear voice, not deigning to hide his arrogant sneer as he looked down his nose at the jury, at the lawyers, at the F4 listening captive in the audience. "I was a fourth year, Tsukushi Makino was a first year. But that's not really what you want to know, is it? You want to know about her emotional state, how fucked in the head she is and why. For that, you need to understand how we met. So here's the way it was. I needed a girlfriend. To put it bluntly, I was horny. I used my position as a student advisor to canvas the entering class for a girl." His callous words offered no apology for his actions, and the court listened in a horrified kind of silence, "I'm a busy man. I wanted a quick lay, no strings, no emotional shit. Over the years, I've found that chicks with low self-esteem tend to be easy. All you have to do is pay them a few compliments, make them feel pretty, desirable, and they'll fall at your feet. You don't have to make promises, you don't have to tell them you love them, And when you dump them, they don't fight hard, they all think it's their fault in the first place."

"What an asshole." In the back of the courtroom, Akira couldn't believe his ears. And Tsukushi had seriously dated this guy? He almost made Tsukasa look good by comparison.

"At first, Tsukushi looked like the perfect candidate for a quick fuck. Shy, quiet, not terribly attractive, kept to herself. You know, standard wallflower material. So, I approached her one day in the hospital. Tried to flirt, the whole standard routine. She brushed me off, gave me the total cold shoulder. Well, I hate to lose, so I tried again, with the same result. I'm an attractive man, so I knew it wasn't that. And I'm not stupid, I could tell there was something off with her reactions. So I watched her. She was a loner, she had no friends—would eat lunch alone, outside the medical school every day. She flinched, you know, whenever anyone approached her, grew hostile at every friendly gesture. I've seen patients like that, who scan the room when they enter, looking for the escape route, who only sit with their backs to the wall. I never saw her smile. So yeah, I should have moved on, found a more suitable fucktoy, but I'd already invested so much time into figuring Tsukushi out. And, as I said, I hate to lose. I wanted her. So I tried a new approach. . ."

Tsukushi remembered it as if it had happened yesterday, sitting at her usual bench, slowly chewing at a sandwich she hadn't the appetite for. The man—Amon, tall, intense, overbearing, sitting down next to her, blocking her sunlight, a little too close. Her heart hammering in panic, the way it always did those days, when a man got too near, and she remembered. . . . She remembered him, Amon Kunisawa, who had cornered her in the hallway of the hospital and tried to flirt with her. Amon Kunisawa, whom she'd later seen cursing out some hapless nurse who had made some innocuous error. Amon Kunisawa, who radiated arrogance, a cold hard clarity, who seemed to feel nothing but ambition. And he turned to her, pinning her to her seat with those piercing eyes, and he made her a proposition.

"Date me." He'd said, a command, not a request, "I need a girlfriend, you're single, I'm good in bed. You need to get out of the rut you're stuck in. . ."

"No." Tsukushi had cut him off, and tried to stand to escape, when his hand shot out to grab her wrist.

"I wasn't done." Amon had growled, "Let me finish. I don't want some needy girl hanging off me all the time, I don't want some dumb chick whinging about Love and commitment, and asking all the time if I love her. I don't believe in that nonsense. I'm looking for a steady source of sex, I don't care if you're good or not, we can fix that. In return, I promise you this—I will never lie to you. I've been called an asshole and a bastard and many worse things, but never a liar. You're not stupid, so think about this: you could do a lot worse than me, I'm smart, attractive, good in bed, and I know how the world works. You need confidence, I can help give that to you. So how about it?"

And god help her, she'd said yes. There was something in his eyes that compelled, and she'd had a second's thought, that maybe it wouldn't be so bad, that maybe she could learn from this arrogant cold man, that he could help bury the mistakes she'd made. She'd had the brief hope that if love and its betrayal had ruined her, turned her into the broken-down being she knew herself to be, that maybe this passionless union of convenience might be the antidote to her pain.

It hadn't been the solution, of course, but, in some way, it had helped. Amon had tried, in his own way- tried without saying anything, without asking anything. To impart a skillset, the illusion of competency, the ability to appear functional. He'd given nothing away, nothing to say how he'd learned these skills, or why, or what he was hiding. . .

In the courtroom, Amon was still talking, his voice dragging Tsukushi from her memories.

"It was obvious from the very start that there was something seriously wrong with Tsukushi. She'd agreed to my proposition, which, quite frankly surprised me, but I wasn't about to complain. What was interesting was that, from the moment she agreed, she started trying. Trying to act like she wanted to be there, that she was glad of our arrangement. It was obvious that she wasn't. I taught that girl every sexual position I knew. She's a smart girl, and she caught on quickly—she went from being totally clueless and scared, to being a damned good lay, and scared. And trust me, I wouldn't force a woman –what's the point? But I'm not blind or stupid, so I was not pleased that Tsukushi never came. But she never complained about it either. She got pretty good at faking it, and that was fine too." He sounded as though it didn't bother him at all, her lack of responsiveness. His voice was distant, analytical, as he went on, "She had nightmares almost every night. She would wake up drenched in sweat, alone in her own world." Amon shrugged, "But she didn't ask for help and I didn't offer it. Instead, I taught her how to wear the mask, to pretend like nothing was wrong, to smile politely, and do what had to be done. Teaching by example. She's good at that, at taking care of others, then she doesn't have to think about herself. But still, I couldn't keep her from flinching whenever anyone touched her. I'm pretty sure I was the only male she ever let get within two feet of her, and I could see her visibly forcing herself to relax, to smile.

"Eventually, she dumped me, of course." Amon paused, cracked a sardonic smile, "Surprised the hell out of me. I didn't think she had it in her." He shrugged again, his mask of disinterest firmly in place. "After that, she avoided me, I graduated. Never saw her again until just now."

It was a somewhat sordid history, a partnership of convenience, people using each other. And it was the facts, but in no way was it the whole truth. There had been moments in their relationship, when Tsukushi was asleep, that Amon had lain there in bed watching her, the jaded mask slipping from his face. Those brief moments in her sleep when Tsukushi would smile, and he could feel his cold heart thawing. Then she would whimper, and cry, and thrash, and wake, and he would grip her shoulders, while she panicked, until she recognized him and calmed, and then he would fuck her senseless, trying to drive the image of her panicked face from his own mind, trying to replace her fear with pleasure, failing, the both of them falling to sleep again, trapped in their mutual loneliness.

Maybe he had loved her, maybe he hadn't. He would never admit it to anyone if he had. And she would never ask. They were good together, he knew that, Despite her neuroses, or perhaps because of them, he'd treated her like he'd treated no other woman. Her heat, his cold, they complemented each other. He had put up with much, just to keep her around. Would have done more to take her back. But she would have none of it. He had been defeated, and his life had never felt the same since. He wished now, that he could, like Mr. Aoike, have seen Tsukushi smile for real, out of her own joy or pleasure at life, rather than as a carefully constructed social necessity.

"Did Dr. Makino ever mention anything to you about the defendant, Junpei Oribe?" The lawyer thought it odd that this Dr. Kunisawa was a witness, yet hadn't mentioned anything about Jun yet.

"No." Amon snorted, "Tsukushi didn't talk about the past."

"Then why are you here?"

"I thought that was obvious." Amon was sneering now, "Who better to tell you about the emotional damage, than the only person in this room who actually understands Dr. Makino?" He emphasized the title now, a jarring dissonance to the way he'd casually tossed off Tsukushi's first name in his previous monologue, as if to reinforce now, how serious he was. "Who better to tell you how Dr Makino's past crippled her as a person, than the one who made sure she could limp through life instead of crawl. I told you already, I'm not a nice person and I'm sure as hell not good. But it was in my own interest to do the best by her that I could. And I did." The words he left unsaid, trapped silently in his throat, that he would gladly have killed anyone, or done anything, to only have met, and had, Tsukushi the way she was back before she'd been damaged.

"So yes." Amon continued, leaning back in his chair on the witness stand, and steepling his fingers sharply, "Tsukushi was, and is, a damaged person, because she has PTSD, post traumatic stress disorder, and PTSD has no cure. The DSM-IV defines PTSD as follows," Amon paused a moment, as if to collect his thoughts, and launched into a didactic recitation, "Firstly, exposure to a traumatic event in which the patient was, or felt threatened, and to which they reacted with helplessness, fear, or horror. Well, the event is what we're here to prove. Rape and assault are common causes for PTSD. But, Dr. Makino admits she was raped, and I for one, believe that completely, Even if she hadn't admitted it here and now, the signs are unmistakable. Secondly, the patient must re-experience the traumatic event, through flashbacks, or nightmares, or suffer intrusive recollections of the event, or experience intense distress at exposure to cues reminiscent of the traumatic event, or suffer physiologic response to said triggers—for example, veterans often find that watching news footage triggers flashbacks, or sets their hearts racing. Only one of those five instances of re-experiencing are needed to support the diagnosis, and Dr. Makino has three. She has vivid nightmares, often triggered by sex, or any sort of physical closeness with men, she flinches, and hyperventilates when touched, even casually by men, or even, sometimes, if one sits too close to her, and if you watch her face, anytime she thinks no one can see her, you can tell, she's thinking about it again, dwelling obsessively on one cruel, unnecessary event, and how it changed everything."

Briefly Amon's tone had softened, as if he had forgotten himself and his audience, but he quickly snapped himself out of it and continued more crisply, "I'm sure the defense will call my testimony supposition, slander, wishful thinking, But before they can do that, let me remind you, that psychiatry, like all of medicine, is a science, a science of observation, a science by which we treat disease by following scientific algorithms. One set of symptoms leads down one path. Another down a different one. Close observation makes the differential. Knowledge of your subject. I watched Dr. Makino closely, when we were together, and the differential diagnoses are few. I am as confident in my diagnosis as a doctor can be.

"But I digress. The third criteria for PTSD is avoidance of stimuli associated with the trauma, and numbing, as evidenced by three of: efforts to avoids feelings, thoughts or conversation associated with the trauma; avoidance of places, activities, and people reminiscent of the trauma; amnesia of certain events of the trauma, diminished interest or participation in activities; estrangement from others; restricted affect or decreased ability to love; sense of foreshortened future. Dr. Makino manifests four of these. I learned that in college, she was an active participant in student government, and had a wide array of volunteer and other extracurriculars. And then, suddenly, she no longer participated in any activities at all. Estrangement from others? She has virtually no friends, and no desire to make new ones. You can take my word for it, or do as I did, and talk to the people at city hospital where she works. They'll tell you. As for decreased ability to love; Dr. Makino doesn't even make friends, She certainly doesn't love." And here Amon fixed his eyes sternly, on the red-faced Dr. Makino, who was biting her lips and wishing she could die. She'd been wrong, being raped by Junpei wasn't the worst and most humiliating, soul crushing event of her life. This was. Being analyzed in public. Her fears and neuroses, her friendlessness, and hopelessness being dragged out for all to see. She knew she was sick. She'd known for years. But her misery was personal, private. It didn't need to be aired to the world. To be transcribed for all to read. And for one brief moment, Tsukushi hated. Hated Tsukasa Doumyouji for swaying her to be here. Hated Rui Hanazawa for making her care enough to want to help. Hated Soujiro Nishikado and Akira Mimasaka for forcing her out of her shell enough to be hurt again. Hated Amon for sitting up there, pronouncing judgment on her life. Hated Amon even more for that warning glance he sent her, that warning not to fuck up his tale, not to react with indignation. Hated him for that look that said he knew. He knew she'd fallen for a patient, that she'd lied up on the stand. He knew. He always knew her. Just one look. . . . And she'd felt like she never knew him at all. Tsukushi blinked, and bit back her tears, and thought about giving up. She never noticed the redirection of Amon's gaze, the fury he flashed at the back of the room, at the F4, while his voice droned on, at times, sardonic, at times didactic, explaining the how and whys of Tsukushi's mentality. The mentality of the thousands of unhappy souls who struggled with PTSD every day of their lives. Struggled at a pretense of normalcy, a pretense of functionality, and those who gave up, went on disability and spent theirs days indoors, in hiding, or who ended it all with a gun, or pills, or any manner of fatal means.

Eventually, It was over. Amazingly, the lawyers hadn't interrupted once, letting Amon lecture on for a surprisingly long time. The defense lawyer finally got his chance, trying to imply that Amon's assertions were guesswork, hearsay, or gossip. That the behaviors he'd observed in Tsukushi were no more than responses to him personally. That maybe he was here trying to blame another for his inadequacies as boyfriend. But for each verbal thrust, Amon had a parry, laughing off the insinuations, and countering with examples of specific incidents where Tsukushi's symptoms had erupted in the time he had known her, incidents in which he hadn't been involved other than to observe. The defense, even at one point resorted to accusing Amon of making everything up, that no one's memory could be that good. But Amon had simply responded with a condescending, pitying smile, one that said, "I can. Because I am just that much better than any of you."

And in the end, the defense gave up in disgust. Mr. Kunisawa may not have been likeable, but he had played his part well. By the time he was through, there was probably not one man or woman in the jury who was not convinced that Tsukushi Makino was a profoundly damaged woman, who had been grievously wronged by someone. The only question was, "Was it really Junpei?"

That, however was, not a question to be answered today, as the court adjourned for the day shortly after Amon completed his testimony.

As the room emptied, Tsukushi found herself frozen at her seat, unable to face the media that lurked outside, the staring faces, the pitying looks. She felt naked and exposed, with nowhere to run, no place to hide. She had no home she felt secure in. No place to be alone with herself pity and disgust. Her lawyers surrounded her here, their faces unreadable. At home, the F4 would be waiting, with contempt or pity, or who knew what lurking behind their eyes. And Amon, he couldn't do all this to her, be here, that familiar look and those dark, hard eyes, boring into her, without seeing her. Kazuya too, just another fragment of her past to see. It was unavoidable. But oh! She wanted to avoid it. To curl up and die, right here, right now.

Instead, Tsukushi forced her rigid muscles to move, pushing up abruptly from her chair, straightening her posture and aligning her defiant jaw. A deep breath, and another, locking her tears behind her mask of cool, as she strode out the doors, past the shouted questions and the blinding lights, to her rusted out car, and to the place she still couldn't quite bring herself to call home.

TBC

Life. Ugh. Medical school. Suck. Surgery. Away Rotations. Hell and damn. New Enemies. Hate. 18 hour work days. Agony. Unrequited crushes. Doh! Creepy housemates. Eww. Former friends. Sigh. Potential admirers. So young! Shitting blood. Gross. Undercaloried. Wasting away. Academic Publications. Three this month! My life. In brief. Pain. . . .This fic. Not forgotten. This chapter. Short and lame. Spellcheck? Hah! Long delay? Beyond my control. Long delay! My apologies. Long delay. . . To be expected. AGAIN.


	54. ch 53 in which there is drumming

Evening at casa des F4: Tsukushi was home, the men were too, but she wasn't talking to anyone. They'd arrived home shortly after she had, only to find her sitting in on the living room couch, staring blankly at the news on tv, and flipping from channel to channel every time a clip from that afternoon outside the courthouse came on. She remembered, but it was so odd, so unreal, seeing herself and all the other players in this tragicomedy from a different perspective.

There was Amon, a tall, icy presence, daunting the cameramen and newshounds with his sneer and his threatening gaze. Here was a man who knew the human anatomy intimately, and how to take it all apart in a moment's work. A cruel man, who enjoyed his work, and who wasn't afraid of a little pain or bloodshed. That's what the camera seemed to show, and that's what the world believed. That's what the court transcripts would show. And that was just the image he wanted them to see.

And there was Junpei. He looked smaller today on camera, his jaunty grin a bit worn at the edges, the innocent act getting threadbare, confidence perhaps waning? The rote words, written by his handlers, memorized and spoken like some third-rate actor. "I am confident that my innocence will be proven. I have nothing to hide." Unlike some, he tried to imply. But his efforts fell flat. Still, the cameras were attracted to his handsome face, the glitter of celebrity, and for some, that was all that mattered.

On another station, a glimpse of the F4, together as they should be; Tsukasa taking point, with Akira and Soujiro at his sides, and Rui bringing up the rear guard. They too, had some lawyers around them as cannon fodder, but those were hardly noticeable in the shadow of such charisma as the F4 exuded. Tsukasa looked fierce, a volatile man reaching the end of his short fuse, barking "No comment!" to all questions, while Akira and Soujiro made a show of trying to calm him. Until some member of the paparazzi got close enough to wave a microphone at Soujiro and ask him if it were true that he really hadn't had sex with the one woman in years to associate closely with the band, really, with his reputation and all? And here Soujiro made a show of laughing, "Dr. Makino? You have got to be joking." And then, a flat, "No." so dismissive as to be almost hurtful, If one had had feelings to be hurt by such a cold denial. Truth, but truth with a spin. And a quick camera cut to Rui, frowning, a tightlipped expression, grim, but distant, as though his mind were far, far away.

But that wasn't the worst part. No, It was the images of herself that Tsukushi obsessed over, cringed and blushed and fretted, though no one could see her here. She thought she looked like shit, looked a fool, a liar, an idiot. No one could believe her, no one would want to. She looked glazed-over, or drugged, or in shock. True, it was how she felt, like she'd been shot in the gut and left her life's-blood all over the courtroom floor. She looked away, time and again. Turned the TV off. And then on, and back. She couldn't look away.

That was how the F4 found her, when they returned home a short while later, after procuring some of the city's best take-away for their communal dinner.

"Hey, Doc." Akira had greeted her, trying to pretend he didn't see the strain in her eyes, "It went well today. You were great up there!."

". . . But what was up with that Guy Kunisawa?" Soujiro mock-shivered, "I can't believe you dated that guy! I mean, if you thought Jun was creepy. . ."

"And why didn't you mention that he looked like Tsukasa?" Akira cut in indignantly.

Tsukasa started at this, broke the intense gaze he'd been leveling at Tsukushi to glare at his friends, and reached out one arm to swat the both of them upside the head. Like he wanted to be reminded of that either.

"I'm hungry, let's eat." He declared brusquely, sitting down on the couch to one side of Tsukushi, while Rui silently took the other side.

And Still, Tsukushi said nothing. Barely acknowledged their presence, other than to give the four men the most cursory of glances, before returning to her neurotic channel surfing. She let her mind drift with the images; tuning out Akira and Soujiro's raucous commentary on the day's events; tuning out the savory aroma of dinner wafting from the plate Tsukasa set peremptorily down in front of her; tuning out the warm feel of Rui's shoulder pressing against her, his arm draped awkwardly over her shoulder.

Tsukasa glared impatiently at her, as she sat there, like some comatose vegetable, not at all like the fiery woman he had learned to respect and come to love.

"Goddamnit. That's enough!" He shouted suddenly, standing up and reaching out to remove the remote from Tsukushi's limp hand, slamming his finger violently down on the off button. "This is fucking stupid."

"Come with me." Tsukasa stuck out his hand imperiously, glaring down at Tsukushi as she huddled on the couch.

"What?" She didn't even look up, too tired, too frustrated and upset to react.

"You'll see. Idiot" Impatiently he reached out, hauling the small woman to her feet, despite her instinctive flinch. "It's for your own good." Tsukushi opened her mouth to protest, but she was too slow. Tsukasa had already grabbed her wrist and started towing her towards the stairs. Down to the basement, where Tsukushi stood uncertainly, awkwardly shifting her feet while Tsukasa rummaged violently through the closet in which the F4 stored the various musical accoutrements purchased on a whim, the toys they could never figure out how to incorporate in to their performances, the gifts of clueless admirers.

"Ah!" a cry of triumph. Tsukasa crossed the room, back to where Tsukushi waited. "Sit." He commanded, setting a low stool down in front of the couch. Tsukushi glanced up, shrugged numbly, and sat. Her nervous hands never ceased their wringing, the unhappy frown seeming a permanent fixture on her face. Tsukasa appeared not to notice as he went back once more to the closet, to return with a tall tapered wooden drum, which he placed in front of Tsukushi. "This." He stated, like an order, "Is a conga drum." You play it like this," to demonstrate, he squatted down beside Tsukushi, "with your finger tips." A pause as he tapped at the drum, "the palm of your hand. . . ." again, in illustration, "flat or with the drum at an angle." Resonant bass notes reverberated, as Tsukasa enumerated the most basic techniques for Tsukushi.

"What?" Tsukushi didn't get it. Why was he showing her this?'

"Stupid woman." Tsukasa fumed, everything had to be spelled out for her; you'd think a doctor would be smarter. "Play the damn thing. Let's jam."

"I. . .I don't have any talent." Tsukushi looked away, perplexed.

"I know that." Tsukasa snorted, "This isn't about talent."

"Then what?"

Tsukasa sighed. Why, oh why did she have to fight everything so hard? He was just trying to help. But she never let down her defenses. Never stopped trying to shut him out. But he wanted in; he knew he could do it. Knew he could get to her, Knew he could help her, Knew she had to fall to him. Because, goddamnit, he loved her. He stood up, moved behind Tsukushi and sat down behind her on the couch. He ran a weary hand across his brow at her instinctive flinch, but leaned forward to place his arms to either side of her anyway. As Tsukushi began to hyperventilate at the feeling of being trapped, Tsukasa began to pound out a slow rhythm, simple, something a beginner could follow. "See my hands? Try that."

Tsukushi blinked, swallowed, and gave in to inevitability. Stumbling at first, she tried to imitate Tsukasa's slaps and open tones. Gradually, Tsukasa sped up, grinning unseen behind the shadow of Tsukushi's hair as he watched her try to keep up. As expected, her technique was terrible. The sound, not so great. But that was totally besides the point. "Now," Tsukasa instructed as he slowed down again, "You choose what to play, Let it out, How you feel. Tell it to the drum, All that twitching and that clenching of your jaw. Tell it to the drum. Now."

As if hypnotized, Tsukushi tentatively began to follow his command. Awkwardly losing herself in the rhythm of pain that was splitting her in two. "Good." Tsukasa whispered in satisfaction, and stood to lower the lights until it was just bright enough to see by. Despite herself, Tsukushi found herself missing his warmth once he was gone.

Tsukasa settled himself at Soujiro's drumset, and began to improvise upon Tsukushi's riff. And as she got more into it, her pace intensified, the complexity of her frustration and her rage, the loss and the sorrow all swept up into the primal rhythms. She hadn't known that simple drumming could feel like this. Sweeping through her body, her bones and heart like a flood. Washing away the thoughts that lingered in the cesspools of her mind. As she played, Tsukushi began to cry, for all the things that she had lost, and all the life that she had not lived. All the things she'd never allowed herself to do. All the things she'd never allowed herself to feel. All the happiness that had been stolen from her. She could no longer see the drum before her through the water in her eyes, and her open palms had curled to fists, beating down upon her drum, the way Jun's fists had once struck her down.

She didn't notice when Tsukasa lay off his playing, slipped around the room. She did notice however, when he sat down again, behind her, slid his huge, rough hands down her arms, wrapped around her pulsing fists, stilled them, held them, teased them open, and wrapped them, with his arms, around her belly.

Tsukushi sobbed like a broken woman, while Tsukasa pulled her back against his chest and held her like she'd crack from edge to edge without him there to hold her together. His arms flexed and fought the urge to pull her close, hold her so tight that she'd never escape from him. Fought against the urge to protect her, to treat her like some fragile bird, too delicate to hold. Too delicate for his kind of love. She was so small, so slight in his arms, and he could feel every vertebra of her rigid spine, the rippled curve of her ribs.

Tsukasa fought the wildness within himself. Fought, and lost, as he always had, to the primal urges that dictated his life. He could blame the pulse of the drum, still echoing in his blood, or the contrast of his rough hands on her smooth skin. Hell, blame the dim lights, the music that ran constantly through his mind, the need to end the pain and the tears, the themes that relentlessly hounded his existence. But what point in blame? Tsukasa could feel his body stirring, aroused by the woman in his arms. His hands, aimless tracing comforting circles on Tsukushi's arms, slowing, gently, more seductive, until her breath hitched, the sobs slowing, breaths coming in a different pattern, until Tsukushi herself didn't know if is was fear, or sadness or anticipation that kept her breathing fast and shallow.

His head was bent, his breath whispering across her neck, hot, slow, and deep, breathing her in. But it wasn't enough just to breathe, and Tsukasa leaned in closer to taste, hungry lips tracing the curve of her throat, taking in the salt of her sweat. Tasting her fear and frustration and her rage. He could feel the tripping of Tsukushi's pulse, shallow and fast, as she twisted in his arms, alarm overpowering the other emotions that enveloped her.

"What. . .?" Tsukushi began to protest Tsukasa's actions. Began, but did not finish her protest. She'd made the mistake of meeting Tsukasa's eyes, a fierce, hot, gaze, that spoke to her of inner music. She could hear the blood pounding in her ears, a rhythm that consumed her, even as Tsukasa lifted her hand to feel his heart beating in counterpoint to her own. She didn't need to ask what, anymore, she knew. And if even if she hadn't known, the way Tsukasa took advantage of her pause to finally kiss her told her exactly what was going on.

Well, he was a singer, he was bound to be good with his lips, and his tongue, and . . Oh God, his hands too? Tsukushi didn't have the mental capacity left for rational thought. He kissed her like he was singing, like he was pouring out the fire within, pouring it to warm the cold shell of her body. Tsukasa kissed with a single minded intensity, the way he did everything, leaving no doubt, that he was in the here and now, and focused totally on Tsukushi.

It was a heady experience, it was exhilarating and overwhelming. Tsukushi couldn't remember anyone ever kissing her like this. Or maybe it was only the moment, and everything just seemed . . . so much More So, after the day she'd just had. It didn't matter, Tsukushi found she had no choice but to respond, whatever her conscious and more rational mind had to say in the matter. Right now, she felt as though she were the song Tsukasa were playing, a torrent of feeling and sensation rushing through her. It didn't make the pain vanish, nothing could, but it did make her feel alive.

----

Upstairs, Soujiro turned to Akira. "Is it a good sign or a bad one that that awful noise has stopped?"

"Umm. . ." Cautiously, Akira took his hands off of his ears, "Please god, never let that woman near a drum again."

"Or any musical instrument. . . Do you think Tsukasa killed her?"

"He does have sensitive ears." Akira agreed with a nod.

"That's not it at all." Rui frowned, and glared as if his gaze could pierce through the basement door.

"Hmm. . . ." Soujiro and Akira exchanged an expressive look, "Think he bothered to lock the door?

"Wanna find out?"

"What, and cause trouble? You think I want to risk the wrath of Tsukasa when he's trying to seduce the doctor dearest?"

"I'm more afraid of what she might do."

They were trying to goad Rui, and it worked. He rose from the couch upon which he'd sprawled, stalked towards the basement door, and slowly turned the knob. Tsukasa had not remembered to lock the door after all. As Rui silently descended the stairs, Akira and Soujiro exchanged another meaningful glance.

"Are you sure that was a good idea?"

"No, It was a terrible idea," Soujiro grinned, "But those three have got to face each other sometime. At least she's not ignoring Tsukasa now."

"And you think sending Rui down to interfere is going to make anything better?"

"No."

"Soujiro, What the Fuck are you trying to pull?" Akira threw up his hands in exasperation, "I played along with you because you wanted me to, but I have no fucking clue what's going through your mind these days. Are you trying to fuck with Tsukushi's head? Or Tsukasa's? or Rui? The trial, our band, not enough excitement? Lack of getting laid driving you insane? What?"

"Akira," Soujiro sighed, "This house is fucking insane. What do you think is going on? You think it's a good thing that Tsukasa pushed for this trial? Do you think it's a good thing that he's downstairs right no taking advantage of Tsukushi in a moment when she's at her weakest? I may be a philandering asshole, but even I don't sink that low. So sure, If Rui wants to interfere, then I for one am all for it. Tsukushi can't handle a relationship with one of them right now, much less both. Am I the only one in the house creeped out by that Amon guy today? Am I the only one who thinks that right now we should be talking to Dr. Makino instead of trying to fuck her? With a little luck, Tsukasa and Rui will start a fight downstairs and give me an excuse to get the doc away, for a little more rationality, a little less of Tsukasa's brand of animalistic existence!"

"Whoa, dude." Akira's eyes were wide with surprise. He had not expected this little outburst from Soujiro, "Calm the fuck down. We're all on the same side here. . ."

And that was when Tsukushi came charging up the basement stairs, clothes disheveled, face flushed with passion or embarrassment or anger.

Downstairs, the boys could hear Tsukasa's raised voice cursing Rui, calling Tsukushi. Frustration and wanting crystal clear in every shouted syllable.

"Why. . ." Tsukushi paused in her flight towards her own bedroom to cry, "Can't anyone leave me alone? Just for a moment or a day? Just leave me alone! All of you, I don't want. . .I can't. . . Just leave me alone!"

So much for the power of the primal. A fleeting release, too temporary, too easily sullied by the complications of a complex life.

Just another evening at casa des F4.

And in a hotel across town, Dr. Amon Kunisawa put the phone back in its cradle with a snarl, dropping his head into his hands to rub his throbbing temples.

"This can't end soon enough."

But there was no one there to hear, or care, or understand what he meant.

TBC

- - - Sorry sorry, short chapter, bad transitions. Many apologies etc. been sick, lost 7 of my body weight in past 7 weeks. Well, that's not very much, but I didn't have that much to spare, especially as I was doing my surgery rotation, 18 hour at work days, so not my thing, even if I had been eating enough, and not sick. So chapter written in little disjointed bits. Deal. Will try to get plot back on line for next time. Whenever that is. - - -


	55. ch 54 in which Amon hates

- - - A short chapter: a filler chapter: better than no chapter at all? Who needs plot anyway? It's coming, soon, I promise. (where by soon, I mean, umm. . sometime. . .)- - -

Memories. She was drowning in them. An endless sea of memories. They could choke you, drag you down. Suffocating until you couldn't bear to draw another breath. He could see it, see her, gasping for breath. Silently, so no one could hear, carefully, that no one might see. He saw, because he knew her, knew what went on beneath that brittle and hardened mask.

Hate. Now that was something else. Cold and hard and sharp. But clear. Clear and pure and free. You could breathe hate, You could live on it, let it sustain you. It could make you strong. Amon knew how to hate, had let hate shape his teenage years, let hate harden and temper him. Hate that others felt, directed at him. The callous, uncaring, selfish hatred of his parents, a welfare family to the third, quickly spawning, generation. Hatred for the extra mouth to feed, hatred for the demands on them, the needs that they could not fulfill, that they couldn't be bothered to see. His own hate at the abandonment. Hatred for the world that did this to him. The world hated him, he could feel it battering against his skin, and he would hate it right back.

Hatred was easy. It let him use people, be used by them. The way of the world. He knew life with disdain, he breathed it in, until even the hate was gone. Like a flame in a void, it could burn itself out. It left him cold, seeing life through a vacuum. But Amon remembered hate, remembered _how_ to hate, remembered how it filled his lungs and eyes, invaded every pore.

Amon watched Junpei Oribe's trial through this crystalline lens, and through it, he saw Tsukushi choking on her memories, as the days went by. He saw her there, sitting so alone, her eyes fixed on nothing as the parade of witnesses continued. It wasn't like the outcome of this case was ever in doubt. Junpei was a fool, any idiot could see that, and he would damn himself with his own testimony. In good time, he did. The trial had worn him down. Tsukushi's lawyers had planned that, dragging it out with a seemingly endless stream of incidental witnesses, character witnesses and the like. The law in this day and age was a farce, guilt determined by who gave a better performance. Amon liked it that way. It provided more amusement for him. Jun cracked right on schedule, his testimony fragmented, rife with contradiction, fuming with vitriol towards the woman who accused him. He kept forgetting his lines, getting the innocent affect wrong, all wrong. It was all Amon could do to keep from laughing outright.

That amusement was short lived, and long in coming. Before that, and after, Amon watched. Mostly he watched the F4. He saw Tsukasa, a man fixated, but on what? At first, Amon thought that Tsukasa was fixated on Tsukushi—the way he watched her, with a hungry intensity, a depth of longing that even Amon could recognize, if not feel himself. He saw too, the anger in the younger man, a familiar hate, simmering under the surface, directed at Junpei. Hah! As if Junpei were really the source of Tsukasa's problems. Amon saw the smug set of Tsukasa's mouth as the trial wore on, as if he knew where it all was heading. As well he should. Amon did a little int0rnet stalking himself one evening, to find out why Tsukasa looked so happy. It wasn't hard. So, the F4 were making a move on their record label. Funny that, they weren't subtle at all. It was all over the news, Megamusic corp's fiscal disasters. Plagued by scandals, hostile takeover attempted by an unknown consortium. Hah.

After reading that, Amon looked at Tsukasa in a new light. The man was a schemer, a planner and a manipulator. Who would have thought it from just looking at the man? But more, Amon had thought that Tsukasa hungered for Tsukushi, Now he wasn't so sure. How did she fit into his schemes, and how was he using her? Did he want her for her, or for what she could do for him? And how much could he really care? Did he even know what this trial was doing to her? How could he not? Amon would have killed to know these things. But now was not the time. Not yet.

Inside, Amon could feel the seeds of disdain curdling into hate.

And then there was Rui. Amon saw him, saw through him, the hollow man. Once he caught Rui looking back at him, grey eyes across the room, hollow and bleak. Dead and dark as the coldest winter skies. A challenge in that gaze, a question. What are you doing here, and what will you try to take from me? The feel of a man who has already given up, but who doesn't quite remember how to stop trying. But mostly, Rui stared blankly ahead at nothing, as if he couldn't bring himself to look at Tsukushi, as if he were afraid of giving too much away. Someone might see his need, and take it away. What would he do if he lost Tsukushi? Amon wondered; would Tsukushi ever leave? If she did, how long would it take for the life, the love, that she poured into her patient, to drain away, leaving him an empty vessel once more. How long until he filled himself with chemical dreams? How long? The man was weak, the kind of man who is a victim of himself. Amon sneered silently at the man who had attracted his little doctor, awoken her poor damaged heart.

Amon let the hate blossom, wash over him in soothing waves of cold.

Then there were the other two. Amon thought he might grow to hate them too. They talked, incessantly, whenever there was a recession. He watched them passing notes, like some overgrown school boys in the back of the class. What was their role here, and how did they relate to Tsukushi? In school, she'd never been the type to appreciate their kind. The popular sort of kid, to whom everything came easily. Good looking, well-mannered, confident and self assured. Nonserious to the extreme. He could see them as what they once had been—a boy band. How. . . cute. But what were they now?

Akira, hair like copper, and eyes of blue. Amon could see the sparkle even from here. He wore a frown here, more often than not. It didn't seem to suit him. Every day, he sat between Tsukasa and Rui, like some kind of chaperone, exchanging looks across them at Soujiro, or chewing his lip thoughtfully as he listened to the courtroom drama. He wore the harassed look of a man trying to control chaos. A mother with too many needy squalling children, unsure who to help first, or how. He was lonely, and no one would ever know.

Should he hate the man who enslaved himself to others' needs, or pity him? Hate him for all that he'd failed to do, all that he'd helped bring Tsukushi to?

Crystal clear, ice, freezing him to his seat, Amon embraced the hate.

Soujiro. The fourth. Oh dear god how Amon wanted to hate him, this pretty boy, this flighty philanderer. He knew the type, hell, he could act the type to perfection if he wanted too. Seduction was easy, smiling was easy, words were easy. Lies.

Amon caught Soujiro watching him speculatively. Every day, as if trying to determine what Amon was up to, why he was still here, still involved in this farce of a trial, now that his testimony was over. Amon saw the lies in his smile. He saw the anger in every movement when Soujiro elbowed Tsukasa unnecessarily, shrugged off his friend's words. All was not happiness and light in the land of the F4. Soujiro had an agenda, Amon guessed, some thing Tsukasa didn't like. The friction was palpable in the air between them.

Amon could hate that. All the complication in Tsukushi's life. She'd never asked for such things. Never wanted it. She was a simple girl. She was never meant to endure the complexities of the real world. She would have been better off in a different career. Better off, if Junpei hadn't deflected her from whatever destiny she might have had. Tsuksuhi was meant for truth and light and loving. For energy and emotion. Instead she was trapped in this world, the world Amon knew. Her closest friends these four men; lies, despair, hunger, loneliness.

Amon hated that.

If Tsukushi had stayed with him, things would have been different. Simpler. He'd had a plan. Happiness was not a part of it, but it would have been better. They could have been content. Good for each other. Maybe it could still be.

He knew that was a lie.

Everyone left.

She'd left.

He'd left.

He was lies, despair, hunger, alone.

Was it any wonder that he hated them?

Breathe it in, breathe it out. The trial is over. The watching is over. Amon feels the hate making him strong as the deliberations begin.

----

Tsukushi stifled the urge to twitch for the nth-hundred time. Thank god this farce was almost over. Every day it got harder.

Harder to breathe, harder to think, harder to get out of bed. Harder to care.

Things hadn't been right since that night, she knew that; that night with Tsukasa, the night with the angst and the drumming, the attempted seduction.

Oh hell, she could admit it, more than attempted. He would have succeeded had it not been for Rui's interruption. And she hated that. Not the interruption. That, itself, was merely hellishly embarrassing. No she hated that she had been that weak, that she had let her frustrations blind her.

No, she still wasn't being honest. She'd liked the drumming, the primal power of the rhythms. It felt good to purge her misery in something so clean and pure. To drive doubts and uncertainty from her head in a surge of cacophony.

What she hated was that He'd taken advantage of that. Tsukasa had taken advantage.

She'd needed something, he'd known that. And he'd tried to help. She knew that. The drumming, it was meant to help. But the kissing—ok, no, the full-out snogging session—that was so not meant to help. That was him, pushing her, taking advantage of her weakness to push his suit. So it felt good at the time. That wasn't the point. It had felt good because her blood had been surging to the drums. Strong emotion, built up, channeled, craving an outlet.

Because she would never have let him jump her like that had she been thinking straight.

She couldn't handle intimacy right now, she really couldn't. Not with this trial reminding her every single fucking day why she was so messed in the head. Every human touch reminded her of his touch. She had nightmares every night.

And yet, it was more than that. Tsukushi was sick of being used, of being taken advantage of. It was in her nature to help people, to give them what they wanted. She couldn't stop that. But why did they always seem to demand more than she had to give?

She was sure Tsukasa hadn't meant to take advantage. Of her. She was sure he hadn't known that's what he was doing. He hadn't planned to do it. But then, Junpei hadn't planned to hurt her either.

These things just happen.

And she kinda sorta just Had to wonder about what it meant that Tsukasa hadn't thought about what his actions might mean to her, how they would affect her.

He'd been pretty damned forceful about insisting on this farce of a legal action too, and look what that was doing for her emotional state.

Tsukasa was happy, though, he was downright jubilant at the way things were going. Didn't he even realize what this was doing to her? Didn't he care? He'd said he loved her, that he was doing this for her, to free her from her past. Seemed like maybe, just maybe it was the other way around. He was the one being freed from the scourge of Junpei, he was the one who was buying his way free from the record company he'd indentured himself to.

Sure seemed like everything was going Tsukasa's way. Except this. Except Tsukushi.

She'd given enough. She'd given herself until there was nothing left to give. She was empty now, hollow. She couldn't even try to give Tsukasa the affection he craved.

She didn't even think she wanted to right now.

His childish elation mocked her pain.

Well and So, Tsukushi had got through the trial. It was easier just to be empty. Easier not to care. So why did her hands still curl to fists, and why did her feet tremble?

Nights were the worst, the house of men, and her. She'd taken to driving home a different way every night. Forcing herself to stop for takeout. Forcing herself to eat, alone, in her car if need be, where it was quieter, where the only one to make demands on her was herself. Because when she got home, they were there; Tsukasa and Rui, Akira and Soujiro.

She sometimes had trouble even looking at Tsukasa. She couldn't get up the strength even to yell at him. It tired her to be in the same room as him. He may have noticed, but most times, when Tsukasa opened his mouth to talk to her, Soujiro would interrupt, or elbow him in the ribs. A fair bit of dissention in the ranks, that.

Rui was a whole different matter. She still loved him. At least, she thought she did. She wanted to be there for him, wanted to comfort him, and hold his hand so that he could sleep. But she was so tired, herself. He had hollows under his eyes, Rui did. She couldn't know that he watched her while she slept, that he dreamt restless dreams of empty streets, of alleyways and darkness and cold. A life without her.

But she tried. She'd sit with him, and talk. Or more often than not, they'd sit in silence. She couldn't make him smile though, not when she felt so little like smiling herself. A few days ago, she'd tried sleeping with him again—just sleep, to see if that could quiet their mutual nightmares. It hadn't worked. She'd woken thrashing and whimpering her fears to the night. It was worse than sleeping alone, and Rui was helpless to ease her fears.

Some days, Tsukushi wondered if it was really worth the effort to get out of bed.

Akira and Soujiro helped; they really did. If they hadn't been there, she would have left the house for good. If they hadn't been there, she felt that she would have lost her mind. She would have abandoned Rui and Tsukasa to save the shell of her own sanity.

It felt. . . nice. . . to have friends. The one good thing about this whole mess. She thought these two were her friends. Despite the bad beginning and that one night stand with Akira.

But Tsukushi was always on edge, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. What would they decide they wanted with her, and when? No one was nice to her without ulterior motives. Maybe they just wanted her to stay. Maybe they just wanted her to keep Rui alive, keep Tsukasa tame. Maybe. .

Some evenings, she'd lock herself in her room, her and Akira and Soujiro. Away from Rui, away from Tsukasa and the unbridled madness her emotions became around them. It was kind of funny, really, Akira always flopped out on her bed, which meant that Soujiro did too. And she got the floor and a pillow. In her own bloody room! Unless, of course, they'd say, she wanted to hop up and cuddle with them. Sometimes, she still couldn't believe they were really straight. Or maybe this was some wack-ass attempt to con her into a threesome with them. As if.

Other times she got the impression that they were in her room to hide from Tsukasa. She'd noticed a spiraling tension; the way they sat in the courtroom, the brief wrestling matches Soujiro and Tsukasa had in the living room most nights. The near-permanent crease in Akira's forehead.

And it wasn't all about her. She wasn't egotistical enough to think that they were fighting over her, and her place in their lives. She was pretty sure it had to do with their music, and the record label. But she hadn't the energy to investigate, and the boys were all keeping their lips sealed.

Tsukushi hated secrets, But she was hardly one to talk about secret keeping, so she let it be.

Tension, tension everywhere, and nowhere to run, no where to hide.

Sitting in the courtroom, Tsukushi felt the eyes upon her. Tension with every breath. In and out. Breathe. People were watching. The F4 were watching. Junpei was watching. Amon was watching.

In a few moments, the verdict would be announced. Her future, her past, all tangled up together.

Maybe it would be ok, if she let her hands tremble, just a little.

TBC


	56. ch 56 in which Amon taunts

Tsukushi sat in her uncomfortable chair in the stifling courtroom and listened to the verdict being pronounced. Funny, how the words hardly even seemed to touch her, as if they had no relation to all that had gone before. What did it matter that she'd won, when all she felt in her heart was loss. The loss of her innocence so long ago, the loss of her spirit, the loss of her privacy, the loss of her illusions and her façades. Across the aisle, she could hear Jun's snarl of disbelief, see his look of fury at the damages awarded, an amount that would bankrupt him if he didn't fix up his finances quickly. She watched in a daze, as if from very far away, as he leapt to his feet and shouted his incomprehension.

"You bitch! All I ever did wrong was to want you! You loved me, you used to say so all the time. But you lied, if you'd loved me you would have believed in me, you wouldn't have said no. Instead, you rejected me, and look what it has come down to! You chose them!" an expansive wave of his hand towards the back of the room where the F4 sat, "A sorrier lot of losers I never met! Well, see what this gets you! Do you think you won? Are you happy now? You should have been mine!"

Jun's furious yells were finally cut off by a bailiff hustling him from the room, as the judge fought to re-impose order.

And still Tsukushi sat, frozen. It didn't feel like victory. She didn't feel much like smiling. Or celebrating. She merely felt cold, like the tears leaking slowly from her stinging eyes.

Was this really it? Would he leave her alone now? Could she get back to her life, without wondering if he was lurking around the corner? Would he be enough of an embarrassment that his more rich and powerful friends abandoned him and his quest to destroy the F4? Would Tsukasa's grandiose takeover succeed, with Junpei out of the picture? Would the strain she felt between her and Tsukasa dissipate with the ending of this trial?

Was it worth it even to dream of hope?

It was over, it really was. That had to be worth something. The gavel came down, the court adjourned for the final time. And then, they were there, surrounding her. The F4. Their first public association with her since this whole ordeal began. And she could tell Tsukasa wanted to hug her, but Soujiro's elbow knocked him out of the way, letting Akira reach her first, as if they'd planned it. They probably had. Akira's exuberant embrace knocked the air out her lungs, and Tsukushi reeled, as Soujiro shook her hand and grinned at her. "I knew you'd do it, doc. How's it feel to be a winner?"

"I'm tired. Can we go home?"

She hardly even reacted as Tsukasa finally claimed his place, shoving Akira out of the way, to clasp Tsukushi tightly, a silly grin plastered across his face, and a feral light of victory shining triumphantly in his eyes. He was squeezing her too tightly. Too close, and she couldn't breathe. She was suffocating in his victory. His triumph. She hurt too much to celebrate. He didn't know, couldn't understand, that she'd done this for him, and it was killing her.

She couldn't stand to be so near to him, and she wiggled free of him, too quickly for his liking. Stood back, her arms tightly around her chest. Eyes seeking Rui, where he hung back from the rest of the group, sparing a wan smile for him. Reassuring him that she was still here, could be there again, when he needed her.

But now, she just needed to go home. It was too noisy here, and crowded. And out there, the press awaited. Lights, and cameras and microphones and intrusive questions. She'd be caught, a deer in the headlights, stunned and in shock.

"Over, it's over. I'm just glad it's over." It didn't feel over.

"Come on doc, let's get you home." Akira, the eternal scoutmaster, took charge, linking his arm with one of hers, while Soujiro took the other side, "Tsukasa, you got point. Try not to kill any paparazzi that get in the way. Rui, you got the rear. It may not look like it, but I've got my eye on you. Try not to get lost."

"As if I would let you take Tsukushi without me." Rui muttered, as he slouched along behind them.

So that's how she left, surrounded by these four men, almost a mobile fortress. She could hardly see over their shoulders. Certainly not well enough to note the eyes that followed their progress out the door; the ice-cold eyes of one Dr. Amon Kunisawa.

Home again. The sanctity of her room. The door shut and locked against the oppression of Tsukasa's jubilation. Her back pressing against it, as if to defend against the monsters trying to break it down. Arms wrapped tightly around her middle, just letting herself shiver. It was over. Over. Over.

Downstairs, Tsukasa wanted to talk, to brag, to crow about how brilliant it had been, how skilled the lawyers, Tsukushi's image as the battered heroine. The dismay on Jun's face. As if it were the only thing he could think of. Tsukushi had quite enough of thinking. Up here, in her room, it was quiet and still. At least, until the ringing of her phone broke the silence. It was her brother, Susumu. He'd heard on the news. She'd Won. It was all he wanted to talk about too. And she had to pretend to be happy, as he rehashed the whole sorry story. And when he was done, her parents called. And after them, Yuki. Seemed everyone she knew wanted to talk about her victory.

She just wanted to forget.

Tsukushi sighed and turned her phone off. Thankfully, she didn't think she knew that many people, anyway. Not people who cared enough to call.

Silence again. Too short a time. A knock on the door. Tsukasa or Rui, Akira or Soujiro. Would they all want to talk too? But she couldn't shut them out forever. Tsukushi heaved out a deep breath and opened the door. It was Soujiro.

"Mind if I come in?"

"I'm tired, Soujiro."

"Me too, is that a yes?" He took it as such, and slipped past her, letting her relock the door behind him. Doc. Makino could be weird sometimes. He could be weirder.

"I don't much feel like talking." Tsukushi heaved another sigh as she turned to face him.

"Fine by me. I just wanted to get away from Tsukasa's endless yapping." Soujiro flopped bonelessly onto her bed, and crossed his arms behind his head to stare at the cracked plaster of her ceiling.

"You have your own room, you know." Tsukushi grouchily slumped to her usual seat on the rug by the side of the bed.

"Yeah, but this is more fun." Soujiro let his lips quirk in a lopsided half-smile. "I get peace and quiet, and I get to piss off Tsukasa too."

"Oh god. I don't want to know."

"Relax." Soujiro's arm flopped out to pat Tsukushi reassuringly on the shoulder, "As long as I'm in here, he can't throw furniture at my head."

She really didn't want to know. But she couldn't not ask.

Curiosity killed the cat. So much for not talking.

"So what is up with you two anyway? Even I can see that something's not normal."

"Hah." Soujiro barked out a bitter laugh, "No, doc, this Is normal for us. Or at least, this is how we were for the past couple of years—you know, before you came along." And after the girls died. "Tsukasa and me, we never got along that great. He rubs me the wrong way, I piss him off. In a way, it's amazing we're friends at all. Or that the band has lasted as long as it has. I guess we're like family. Can't escape each other, but that doesn't mean we have to get along."

"But what's going on?" Really, wanting to know, _Is it because of me? Is that why Tsukasa's on edge? Am I to blame for causing more problems in everyone's lives?_

"Oh, sorry. I guess you wouldn't know. You've been kinda busy and all." Too wrapped up in her own issues to see what was going on around her. "It's Megamusic. Akira and I, we used all our friends, all our connections, we got loans and we dug ourselves a big old pile of debt, but we got a coalition, enough people with too much cash to blow, and with Tsukasa's scandal brokers driving the stock into the ground—we did it. The F4, it doesn't have a majority share, not by a long shot. But the consortium we raised up – it does. . ."

Soujiro sounded so morose; Tsukushi didn't understand. Wasn't this what they wanted? Stockholder majority, replace the CEO, the entire management with someone more biddable? Who would let the F4 do as it pleased? A drastic measure for such a small thing, for sure. But oh what a story! And what a coup for one such as Tsukasa, who loved these grandiose gestures.

"So what's wrong with that? And what does that have to do with you and Tsukasa fighting all the time?"

"It's . . . Oh fucking Hell!" Soujiro exploded, letting out the frustration that had been building up for days, "It's fucking Tsukasa! He bloody well wants to be the goddamned president of Megamusic now! Wants to make sure that he stays in control. Wants to recoup all the money he spent on this shit! And he wants us too run it with him!"

Tsukushi gasped, and twisted around to stare at Soujiro in shock. (And not just at his language). He couldn't be serious? The F4, the music – she'd thought that meant everything to these men—to Tsukasa.

"Yeah." Soujiro caught the question in her eyes, and snorted, "I guess the fucking Doumyouji genes are dominant after all." He sighed deeply, "I would never have agreed to this plan if I knew this was going to be the result. I'm a simple man, doc. I like simple things; Music, Women, food, expensive clothes, the occasional drink. My Family disowned me because I chose music over that world. I love what I do. Nothing in hell can make me go back to that. Nothing. But now Tsukasa wants to destroy everything we've lived for. Everything that's made us who we are! Fuck the money! I just want to play!"

"But. . ." Tsukushi stammered, "He can't be serious? What would happen to the F4? I thought he loved the music too!" She'd seen it herself! The passion Tsukasa poured into his song, the life and the feeling, and the torrents of emotion that made it all so close, so real. ". . . And what about Akira—what does he think? And, Rui? What about Rui?" Rui lived for music too, music and her. He was ill-equipped to deal with the corporate world.

"He's serious." Soujiro growled, "Serious as all hell. Fucker swears we can do both, that paperwork doesn't take that much time, that he can write and sing and practice at night. Does he think I'm stupid? My family is just as capitalistic as his is, if not as successful. I know better. And I won't do it. This will destroy the F4. That's all there is to it."

He would not cry. He refused to cry. Soujiro Nishikado did not cry. Not where anyone could see. Soujiro set his jaw and glared at the far wall, as if he could change Tsukasa's mind through sheer force of will. "What Junpei couldn't do to us, Tsukasa will manage just fine on his own."

"Oh Soujiro." Tsukushi felt her heart breaking for him; this man who had tried so hard to be her friend, who had bought her clothes and made her laugh, when all she'd wanted to do was run away and hide behind her job. She hadn't thought there was anything left of her heart to break. She'd been wrong. "There must be something we can do." Tentatively, she slid onto the bed and hugged Soujiro weakly. The first time she'd ever done such a thing of her own volition. "What does Akira think?" No point in asking about Rui—or even if he was involved enough with the world to know or care about these goings on.

Soujiro responded to Tsukushi's fragile embrace, by burying his face against her shoulder. "Hah, you know Akira. The eternal mediator. He'll do or say whatever he thinks will cause the least strife. He likes music. Wouldn't mind returning to the business world. Just wants us all to be happy. Like that's ever going to happen." He wasn't crying, but he was holding onto Tsukushi as if she were his lifeline.

Life never did get any simpler, did it? Just when she'd thought there might be a respite from the emotional trauma she'd just been put through, things had to go and get more complicated. Tsukushi didn't know what to say. Didn't think there was anything she could say that would make a difference. Tsukasa, Akira, Soujiro, and Rui. This business was something she knew nothing about, and quite possibly wasn't qualified to form an opinion on. She didn't even know how much more comfort she could give out to any of these men, when she, herself was so emotionally wrung out, when her heart was so sore and tired of it all. When would there be time for her? When could she recoup her strength? Right now, she was empty of hope, empty of comforting words. Empty of any words at all.

So she sat, and gingerly held Soujiro, while he rambled, ranted, and finally lapsed into silence.

There they sat, exhausted, in silence, while downstairs, the doorbell rang.

--

"Who the hell is out there?" Tsukasa growled irritably. He'd been in a foul mood ever since he'd noticed that Soujiro and Tsukushi had both disappeared upstairs and not returned. He'd wanted to celebrate, but his friends all seemed so subdued. He didn't get it, they'd won! Everything was going their way. And it was about fucking time that it did! He'd even managed to suppress the urge to celebrate this victory with a drink. Though juice seemed such a pansy-ass way to toast Junpei's downfall and Tsukushi's vindication.

"It's probably just some idiot reporter." Akira sighed, slouching deeper into the couch.

"Or maybe it's Jun." Rui murmured. He too made no move to stand.

"Either way," Akira ventured, "No one's going to be out there that we need to talk to."

The doorbell rang again. And again. And again.

The three men exchanged glances.

"Fuck that's annoying!" Tsukasa groused, and stood to answer.

"Don't do it, man." Akira cautioned. "Turn the fucking ringer off."

Tsukasa couldn't admit he didn't know how to do that. He merely turned away, stalked to the foyer, and opened the door.

"What the fuck? What the Hell are You doing here!" The shouted exclamation was enough to raise Akira's eyebrows even further, and he gestured Rui to join Tsukasa at the door to see what was going on.

"And good evening to you, too." A smooth return, with lips curved in a sneer, just so, and the elegantly cold eyebrow lofted at the sight of Tsukasa's two bandmates joining him in a united front against the intruder. "My, oh my. If it isn't the three stooges; The idiot, the junky, and the nanny."

"What the fuck do you want?" Tsukasa prepared to shut the door in the other man's face. He made no disguise of his fury at the name-calling.

"Ah, ah, ah." Quickly, Amon stepped inside the doorway, "It's rude to leave a guest outside in the cold. Is Tsukushi at home?"

"No." Tsukasa stepped closer. He'd throw this man out bodily if he had to, but there was no way in hell he'd let him near Tsukushi. His Tsukushi. Not after the things he'd said about her in court, not after the way he'd seen him look at her. Oh no. This Kunisawa guy, with his arrogance and his sneer- he was a threat, and a rival. Tsukasa knew it instinctively. Having Rui as a rival was bad enough, but this guy? No, that he would not tolerate.

"You're lying." Amon rolled his eyes. "What about you two? Are you going to tell her I'm here?"

"You step in here, without being invited, the first thing you do is insult us, and you expect us to help you? You're a fucking nutcase." Tsukasa sneered.

---

Upstairs in the silence of her room, Tsukushi and Soujiro had heard the persistent ringing of the doorbell, and now, dimly they could hear raised voices, without being able to discern who was speaking.

"I wonder who's down there?" Tsukushi questioned , "Maybe I should go take a look?"

"Better not." Soujiro advised with a groan, "For all we know, it might be Jun with a gun. Better let me check it out first."

"Oh, that's real sensible." Tsukushi started to get up, but was restrained by Soujiro's hand on her shoulder.

"I'm serious, I'll go check it out. We can take care of it. Just hold on a sec." Quickly he pushed to his feet, before Tsukushi could blurt out another protest.

"I'm not a complete incompetent." Tsukushi muttered to the empty room. "Treating me like a kid. Oh well. Probably isn't even about me anyway. Getting too much self-importance these days. Stupid." She kicked the bed for emphasis, and waited grouchily to find out what was going on. At least if she stayed up here, she wouldn't have to deal with Tsukasa.

---

"Oh look." Amon gave a self-satisfied nod when he saw Soujiro join the group of men in the foyer, "It's the world renowned F4! You know I was never much of a fan before. And honestly, now that I've seen you all in person, I think I can say I'm even less of a fan. Let me see here. . . You," he pointed a speculative finger at Tsukasa, "You love her, don't you? Or at least you think you do. But you're a selfish drunk and a bully. Who cares what you want?" Tsukasa started to move as if to rush the intruder, but was stopped by Soujiro's quick grab for his arm. Soujiro wasn't about to give up this chance to see his erstwhile friend discomfited. Let this Amon guy talk. His words couldn't do any more damage to him than Tsukasa's plans already had.

Amon's gaze didn't even brush by Soujiro, or take note of Tsukasa's aborted lunge, as he turned his attention to Akira, "And You. You fucked her, didn't you? Did you enjoy her? Did it help you escape, even for a moment? Or did it add to your burdens?" On to Rui, "You, I thought I could hate. But you're not worth it. You should have died, and spared her the suffering of your kind of love."

And finally, on to Soujiro. A small hint of a smile touched Amon's lips as he noted the way Soujiro was holding Tsukasa back, "Ahh. . . The philanderer. The only one of you four pathetic excuses for men that hasn't fucked with her." Oh he knew, he'd known exactly what Tsukushi wasn't saying that day in court, though no one else in the audience had a clue, "Why not, loverboy? Is my Makino not good enough for you? Or maybe you just can't get it up anymore?"

"Is that the best you can do?" Soujiro actually laughed. His first genuine laugh in days, "Insulting my manhood? Dude, that's pathetic. Tsukushi's not your anything. Yours or anyone else's. You try to pull that shit on her, she'll kick your ass herself—so why are you trying to get us to do it for you?"

And now Amon really did grin, "Hah. You I like."

"Strange way you got of showing it." Akira muttered.

"Didn't say I liked you, now did I?" Amon sneered, "Shut up."

Tsukasa was struggling to free himself from Soujiro's grip, and was shooting his friend death glares. Soujiro wouldn't be able to hold him much longer. Better make this quick.

"Look, asshole." Soujiro began, "I don't fucking care if you like me or not. You here to see Tsukushi? I doubt she'll want to see you; she's not exactly in the mood for company. But, I'll let her know you're here. She can decide for herself." Quickly he thrust Tsukasa away from himself, and headed back up the stairs.

"Traitor!" Tsukasa shouted back up at him, then turned to face Amon, "Now, I'm seriously going to kick your ass."

"Good luck with that." Amon taunted, crossing his arms confidently. This was turning out to be a lot more fun than he'd expected. So childish. Almost hard to hate one so idiotically blunt and immature. But not quite. After all, look what he'd done to Tsukushi. Fools. All of them were fools.

"Why are you two just standing there?" Tsukasa rounded on his other two friends, "Aren't you going to help me kick him out?"

"No one's doing any kicking." A quiet voice from behind. Tsukushi had arrived on the scene, faster than anticipated, voice dripping with fury. "Unless, it's me kicking your ass. Tsukasa, don't try to protect me. Not after what you put me through. You haven't got the right. I'm not a child. I can make my own decisions on who to see and who not to."

"But. . ." Tsukasa started to protest again, but Tsukushi ignored him, and continued on as if he weren't there. Right now, she sort of wished he weren't.

"Hello, Amon." Facing him with a courage she didn't truly feel, after all these years, using her anger at Tsukasa to maintain a façade of strength. Amon had taught her how to do that. A lesson that had served her well for so long.

"Hey, babe." Amon grinned confidently down at her, as if he knew exactly what was going through her mind. He probably did, the bastard. He'd always been too clever like that. "Long time no see. Thought you might like dinner, Saw a place a few blocks down— Care to join me?"

"She's not going anywhere with you." Surprisingly, it wasn't Tsukasa who interrupted this time, but Rui, his quiet voice carrying some kind of implicit threat.

Amon rolled his eyes eloquently at Tsukushi, who merely sighed, and replied quietly, "Let me get my coat."

"Tsukushi! You're not seriously leaving with this jerk?" Tsukasa protested hotly, but Tsukushi brushed by him, pausing just long enough for Soujiro to whisper in her ear, "You sure?" accept her minute nod, and hand her her phone. He could understand her need to get away, even if it was with this incredibly unpleasant guy. She couldn't be any worse off eating dinner with him, than she would be sitting at home and feeling sorry for herself. Besides, here was another way to get revenge on Tsukasa, and such an opportunity was far too good to pass up.

---

She was gone. She'd left with that Utter asshole. Tsukasa couldn't believe it. Just brushed by him like he was nothing. The look in her eyes. She was cold and dead. That wasn't right at all. When had her eyes changed? The Dr. Makino he remembered was Fire. She burned hotly. This woman had been numb. Why hadn't he noticed? When had things gone so wrong? Tsukasa shook his head, but the sinking feeling in his stomach wouldn't go away.

Maybe things weren't starting to go right after all?

And if he could miss this change in his doctor, what else might he have missed? Tsukasa didn't like that thought at all. But he couldn't get it out of his head. Rui, Akira, Tsukushi, Amon. . . Soujiro? Something was very wrong.

Suddenly Tsukasa found himself in dire need of a strong drink.

TBC

- - - Somehow, this chapter felt much longer when I was writing in than it really is. I'm supposed to be studying, but I'm being bad. The one Thursday this month that I'm not on call or exhausted or studying, and beer night was cancelled. Damn those boys, I swear they're taunting my pain. On the plus side, at least for you, since I needed to punt, I wrote this instead of going out. Whee. All my patients have tuberculosis—how long until I do too? and if so many people in this city have TB, then why have I not yet converted my PPD in all the years I've been taking pubic transportation? A mystery for the ages. And of no concern to you, I'm sure. Hope this chapter satisfies. –cm - - - curdled(dot)milk(at)gmail(dot)com.


	57. ch 57 in which more back story is told

Innocence. We worship it, idolize it, dream of it. We go on and on about how babies and children are somehow more special, more pure, more close to god because they are innocent. But what is innocence, really, but ignorance? Ignorance of the facts of life, ignorant of the dirt and the rot that is the foundation of our existence. Only a fool would worship ignorance. Innocence and Ignorance, Innocence and Ignorance. They even sounded the same. Tsukushi turned the words over and over in her mind. Ignorance. Innocence. Perhaps that was why the world looked down on her. She lacked innocence. She lacked ignorance.

No, she reflected, the world probably would have tormented her then for being to naïve.

Maybe in this life, she just couldn't win.

Maybe she was simply playing the wrong game with the wrong set of rules.

Tsukushi glanced sidelong at her companion as they walked together down the street. Amon Kunisawa. Doctor. Surgeon. Currently a plastics fellow out in California. Former boyfriend, of sorts. Former Mentor, of sorts. In a way, he terrified her more than anyone else on the planet. She feared him because he knew her the way no one else ever had. It had been a gift of his, to understand people. To know their soul. And to use that to his advantage. A cold, hard, calculating man, his expressions never reached his eyes. His fingers were strong, a sense of tightly leashed violence. Just walking with him now sent chills down her spine. This was the first man she'd dated after Jun. On the face of it, it seemed ridiculous that she'd ever agreed to his proposition, ridiculous that he'd taught her so much without ever having to say a word, or ask what was on her mind.

It was ridiculous that he was here, now, glowering in the harsh light of the street lamps. Ridiculous that he should come for her, when the one thing that Amon had made clear so long ago, was that he cared for no one but himself. That all he did was to further his own gratification, his own ends.

Ridiculous.

But here he was. And here she was.

Tsukushi found she hadn't a word to say. Couldn't even force the breath past her lips to ask where they were going, much less why was he here, and what did he want with her after so many years of silence between them.

That didn't stop her from wondering, however, and casting questioning looks at Amon's back. Still, the silence stretched on, marred only by the quiet thudding of their footsteps on the sidewalk.

"So." Amon finally broke the silence, "You want Thai food, or Greek? I saw both on the way here."

"I'm not really hungry." Tsukushi demurred.

"Don't be any stupider than you have to be," Amon chided, "Right then, Indian it is. Yum."

Tsukushi had to roll her eyes at the non-sequitur, but otherwise remained silent. If nothing else, she could appreciate the silence of the man next to her, who didn't ask the inconvenient questions, didn't demand decisions from her she wasn't capable of making. He seemed the same as he always had; urbane, self-sufficient, self-contained, decisive. Not weak like her, not a teeterer on the brink of collapse. It was refreshing. And it helped to still the racing thoughts inside her head.

"I don't like them." Amon stated flatly, when a few more minutes had passed. "Your boys. Needy, greedy little children. You have terrible taste, you know that? What on earth possessed you? I told you, I did. I warned you: Love is the world's cruelest joke. So not worth the effort. Goddamnit woman, they're like leeches!" Amon sighed heavily, as if aware he'd said too much, too forcefully. Tact was not his strong suit. More quietly, almost as if such a one as he could feel regret, he murmured, "There's nothing left of you. They've drained it all."

And was it regret for what was gone? Regret that the lessons she'd learned from him had come undone, the ability to rise above it all, to wall all humanity off in a neglected corner of her psyche now crumbling to pieces? Or was it regret that there was nothing left for him?

No, Amon had a secret, one that no one who knew him would ever have suspected. To the world, he was Amon Kunisawa, plastic-surgeon-in-training, a cold, heartless, arrogant bastard of a man, with an icy demeanor and a quick temper. A man with no known family, no close friends, a shallow man obsessed with his career, the thrill of the operating table, money, women, and the materialistic lifestyle that his profession could provide. And yes, he was all that. But he was so much more as well.

Amon told no one about his childhood, growing up in poverty – in Detroit, of all places. His parents had never wanted a child, and couldn't be bothered to care for him when they could barely even care for themselves. They'd told him they loved him, in an absentminded kind of way. They'd fed him, and clothed him for 10 years. And because he'd been a child, and because he hadn't known any better, he'd thought they really did love him, because that's what parents did. And if they forgot his birthday, or missed Christmas, well that was only because they had to work, or because money was tight. That's what he'd always assumed, eavesdropping on late night murmured conferences as his parents scrimped desperately, trying to make ends meet. He'd loved them with all his heart.

That was why it had come as such a shock when he'd come home from school one day to find the house empty. His parents gone, and all their personal things. He'd sat in shock for hours, gone into denial, assumed it was a joke. They were working late, playing a game, out with friends. But it was no joke, and they never returned. He'd been afraid to go to the police, afraid to tell anyone. What would his friends say? His teachers? Anyone? What did it mean that he'd been abandoned, and that everything he thought was true was a lie? He'd loved his parents, and they'd left him without a word. Left him broken-hearted, broke, and alone. Is it any wonder that he was bitter? Is it any wonder that he wasn't quite sane?

When no one paid the rent in a month, the landlord knocked on his door, and entered to find the place a shambles; the furniture smashed, dirty dishes everywhere, and Amon defiantly staring up at him. The landlord took one look and went to call the police. By the time he returned, Amon was gone. He took what little money he had and ran as far as he could from that dirty, decayed city. Even as a child, he was a cunning boy, quickly learning the way of life on the street. He moved to Chicago, joined the ranks of disposed children and street people there. He joined a gang, his young age and cute face making him an invaluable drug-mule and pickpocket. But he wanted more for himself, he'd grown up in respectable poverty, and this was worse. He found a family in a shelter, willing to claim that he was their son, and he re-enrolled in school. Made up a past for himself, and stuck to it. It was difficult to balance education and gang life, but he did it. He had to.

By the time he was 14, Amon looked 5 years older. He had an apartment of his own by now, he had money – all of it made illegally, but what the hell. He'd grown, and he'd learned so much. He'd learned that people lied, that behind the masks they wore, people were basically all the same: sniveling bags of meat, spiced with greed and lust, which was really just another form of greed. He was full of hate for those that had deceived him so, had once made him believe in a thing called love, those that had made him believe in happiness.

He grew aloof, lost his respect for a world that had hurt him so. By the time he finished high school, Amon wanted to hurt all of those who had hurt him. He blamed society for his plight, but he was far too clever a boy to turn to violence or terrorism to make his point. And far too greedy to opt for a career of desperation and continued poverty. No, by now, Amon had learned subtlety, the art of irony. He wanted to be a surgeon, to cut people—humans -- and make them bleed. They would wake in pain, and they would thank him for hurting them, and they would pay him for those wounds. And they would live, but forever after, they would be marked by the scars his knife had left. Just as his damaged psyche bore the scars of his troubled life.

It was one of the few amusements Amon had, as he struggled through college, working two jobs, accumulating mountains of hated debt, to picture how his victims would thank him, never knowing the hatred he felt towards them all. The hurt he nursed in his heart for all time, the betrayal that spurred him on.

He was driven, and had done well in college, gotten into medical school (not his first choice, but you can't have everything), and proceeded to rise to the top of his class. Not well liked, arrogant, cold, he was all these things, but he was also brilliant, and more, he understood the darkness that lies within the human heart, and how to manipulate it.

In his third year, Amon took an elective in plastic surgery. It opened his eyes to his true calling. General surgery was good for the pain, sure, but the problem was that it was actually helpful – surgery saved lives. And even Amon could admit, that not everyone in the world was loathsome. There were good people out there, good people he might cut. Who might not deserve to feel the disdain behind his knife.

But plastics, now here was a discipline he could get into. People were shallow creatures of flesh and blood, defined by the faces that they wore, judged by the bodies they inhabited. Vanity spurred the market for plastics, especially in niche markets like California. In plastics, Amon could happily carve up his victims, knowing that these idiots underwent his scalpel for the most trivial of reasons, and thus their post-op pain was well deserved. Sometimes, he almost felt it was a metaphor. No, he wasn't going into reconstructive surgery to help trauma victim, oh no. Amon Kunisawa was going to flay the flesh from aging actresses and sagging politicians. He was going to tighten them up, buff their skin, violently rip the fat from their thighs. And they would hobble from his clinic, doubled over with pain, bruised and scarred, and they would thank him for making them into monstrous caricatures of themselves. This dream is what kept him going. His own subtle payback to a shallow, heartless society.

In his fourth year, Amon met Tsukushi, and everything changed. It had started out so much more simply, just as he had averred in court. He'd wanted a no-hassle bed-warmer. He'd gotten Tsukushi – and all her neuroses. It had awoken something in him. He'd recognized a kinship with her; damaged goods, the both of them. Only he hid it better – his neuroses allowing him to function smoothly in society, hers only weighing her down. He'd felt sorry for her, tried to quash this emotion; failed.

And then it had hit him, like a bolt of lightening from the blue. He'd woken from a sound sleep one night, the realization pounding in his head. For so long he'd looked down on them all, thought he, in his loneliness, was better than the seething masses of humanity around him. But, in truth, he was no better. He too, was selfish, and shallow. He thought desperately back, trying to remember if he'd ever done any good turn for anyone without thought for his own gain? No. All those lonely years without family, without true friends; how he'd once longed for someone to care for him, to lend a hand. None had. And was he now to become the person who never looked outside himself?

Amon refused to believe it. And so Tsukushi became his secret project, his promise to himself. To show to himself, if no one else, that he was capable of kindness, capable of altruism. She was the one good thing in his life; this tainted innocent. He wanted her to succeed, and he believed in her. He did what he could, within the limits of his self-imposed isolation, to shape her, make her more functional, to allow her to live as best she might, to stave off her emotional collapse as long as he could.

The one good thing he'd ever done. Without his subtle teaching, Tsukushi would have crumbled under the pressure of medical school. She would have snapped completely, or else lost her empathy and her caring streak that made her the good person that she was.

Amon was proud of her. Even after they'd broken up, even after he'd graduated and left for California, he'd kept tabs on her, through his colleagues at city hospital. He'd heard stories of her unorthodox techniques, her passion, and her deeply felt caring for her patients. It had made him smile sadly, and wish that he'd known someone like her when he was lost and alone in his childhood.

And more, he wished he'd met her sooner, knew her true smile.

They made a sad pair on this night, walking down the lonely street. Their hearts so damaged and scarred by the past. There were too many if-onlys in the world, as Amon knew too well. What was done could never be erased. The best he could do was to glue together the pieces, to try to preserve that which he held precious.

It was his secret, and no one must ever know, how much he cared for the woman beside him, relied on her to do the good works that he was not capable of. He would not call it love, for he had forsaken that concept long ago. But it was something, and it was his.

Beside him, Tsukushi remained silent, refusing to rise to the bait. _Needy, Greedy Little Children,_ he'd said. And perhaps it was true, if she were honest with herself, that she'd given away too much of herself in giving in to Rui's needs, Tsukasa's demands.

"But," Amon continued, after a while, "I think I like that other one, the player. What does he want from you?"

"Soujiro?" Tsukushi blinked, startled, "Nothing."

"Everyone wants something." Amon commented, effectively ending that thread of the conversation, and leaving Tsukushi to wonder once more, _And just what do you want from me, Amon Kunisawa?_

She was soon to find out.

Amon led her into a small, dingy restaurant, mostly deserted at this time of night, only a few couples desultorily picking at their curries and rice. A quick glance at the menu, and Amon ordered for the both of them. Tsukushi was about to protest, but hadn't the energy for it. And besides, he'd ordered the Aloo Gobi, anyway, which is what she would have chosen in the first place. They were probably the quietest couple in the restaurant. Tsukushi occupied herself with picking at the tablecloth and avoiding Amon's gaze, while he watched her intently.

Tsukushi had finally gotten sick of the silence, and opened her mouth to speak, when Amon beat her to it.

"You need to get out of this town." He stated, as if it were an unalterable fact, "No. Don't interrupt." Holding up a hand to forestall Tsukushi's heated protestations, "Listen to me first. That farce of a trial has done you a whole lot of no good. Do you think the publicity is going to be good for you or your hospital? How many people know where you live? Where you work? Can you imagine what your ER patients will say when they recognize you? The harassment you are going to face at work?"

"It'll blow over eventually." Tsukushi raised her eyes and set her chin defiantly.

"That's my Makino." Amon laughed, "That's the girl I used to know. But listen – how long is eventually? How long can you hold out? Already, you're wasting away."

"It'll get better."

"Not before it gets worse." Amon remained firm, "And those boys of yours? What are you going to do about them? Never figured you were the type to keep a stable. Still don't. And not with those. . ." He shook his head in disgust. Spoiled, pretty rich boys, never had to work for a thing. All their angst meaningless compared with his. Everyone dies sometime.

"I don't think that's any of your business." Tsukushi bit back tears, Was this what she had come here for? To be reviled and criticized some more. Hadn't she had enough of that already?

"What, I can't be interested in my ex-girlfriend's life?" Amon sounded amused.

"That was years ago." And besides, they hadn't spoken since.

"So? What can I say, you left an impression."

"Why are you here?" Tsukushi had finally had enough.

Amon regarded her for a long moment as their dinner arrived. "Tsukushi, believe it or not, you do have friends. I am one of them. I came to help. But if you can convince me that you're really ok, that you're satisfied with your life and the direction it's headed in, then I'll book myself a flight back home on the first plane tomorrow morning." He knew she couldn't do it. She could lie to everyone but him. He watched her try to say the words, felt her choking on the untruth. She wasn't happy, she wasn't strong. She was failing everyday. And she was so tired. So very tired of fighting everything all the time, of being there, of being real, of carrying the weight of the world, of giving and giving, until there was nothing left.

She opened her mouth. Tried to regroup her defenses, tried to lie. Failed. Sagged in defeat, while Amon hid his triumph behind hooded eyes.

"What do you suggest?" She sighed at last, "You can't stay here for much longer. You have to get back to Cali, and your job."

"Come with me." He pounced on the opening, his adamant tone brooking no denials. "I talked to my attending. He's best friends with the chief of psych at our hospital; they play golf together every bloody week. One of the psych residents dropped out a few months back to move back home to Europe. So, it's all arranged. All you have to do is say the word, and the slot is yours."

Tsukushi could only stare, dumbfounded, as his words slowly sunk into her brain.

Leave?

Go to California?

Could she really do that?

Abandon her responsibilities, the people who depended on her for an unknown place, an even more uncertain future?

Could she take the chance on herself, and let this place go?

Could she? Should She? Would she?

Tsukushi just didn't know. She didn't think she knew anything anymore.

TBC

- - -well, there you have it. After long absence, a short chapter with an ungodly amount of backstory wanking. Goddamn its hard to find a good position to type in when you can't bend your leg or sit without pain. whatever. It's a chapter and its up. Enjoy, cm (curdled(dot)milk(at)gmail(dot)com - - -


	58. ch 58 in which Tsukasa drinks

Junpei scowled and paced across the room once more. Somehow, he couldn't understand how, his life had fallen apart. His hopes, his dreams of glory, his need for that which could complete him, all crashing, burning around him. He wanted so badly to blame it on someone else, anyone else. But the truth was beginning to sink in. Maybe he couldn't blame it on everyone else, after all. It didn't change the hatred that still burned in his heart for the members of the band he'd formerly been a part of, or his disdain for their feelings and their problems. No, that he felt was entirely justified. Still, he was just starting to realize, that maybe Tsukushi had a point after all, and maybe he had wronged her.

Junpei wondered how his life might have been different, if his relationship with Tsukushi had worked out, or been based on something more substantial than his web of deceit.

And now, now after all of this; the blame and the tears and recriminations, the public airing of their sordid story—could she ever forgive him? And would he even want her too?

Junpei snarled, and swiveled on his heel for another circuit of the room. Such thoughts did not deserve to be dwelt upon. What was done, was done. He turned back to the open suitcase upon his bed, and deliberately began to pack his clothes. Nothing now to do, but leave.

Earlier in the evening, Jun had been in an entirely different frame of mind. He'd been furious and outraged at the jury's decision, Horrified by the sum of money he was expected to cough up. At that moment he'd wanted to kill Tsukushi, to hurt her and make her pay for this public shaming, this spurning of his advances. In court, he'd looked up and seen the F4, Tsukasa especially, staring smugly down at him. This was their fault too! Those assholes with their wallowing self-pity and sense of entitlement. They'd never had a real day's work in their life, never had to work hard at anything. It all came so easily to them. He hated and envied them as he had never hated anything. And they had Tsukushi. It was as if she had become a symbol. Something that should be his, now turned against him.

If only she would let him near, so that he could show her, make her see, what a mistake she was making.

He knew he wasn't thinking straight, that it wouldn't work like that. But Junpei's blood was boiling and his heart pounding, so he hadn't listened to that niggling little voice of reason in his head. Instead, after shaking off his lawyers and his entourage, he'd roamed the city like some soaring vulture brought to ground, circling ever closer to that run-down neighborhood in which the F4 secreted themselves.

He didn't know quite what he was planning to do or say once he got there, or even to whom. It didn't matter. All he knew was that something had to be done or said.

In the end, however, Jun never quite achieved his destination. He had been striding briskly along a darkened street, while the wind-rustled leaves in the trees above him whispered secrets in his ears, when he's seen Her; seen them. Walking on the lit side of the street, each too wrapped up in themselves to look his way. Even in the dim glow of a grimy street lamp, he knew her, Tsukushi. At first, he'd thought she was walking with Tsukasa, and a fresh surge of bile flowed through his heart, but then, he'd slowed, looked closer as they neared – and no – that wasn't Tsukasa at all, the back too rigid, the hair, too tame—and, he wasn't walking all that close to Tsukushi. Not the way Jun would have imagined Tsukasa would have – possessive and protective, jealously looming over the woman. So No, it couldn't be him. And then, the man had turned his head ever so slightly, eyes piercing the night to stare directly at Jun.

Jun had shivered then, cut to the quick by the ice in those eyes. Jun had always thought he knew how to hate, had always considered himself a capable and dangerous man who knew how to get what he wanted. But this man, the way his face froze, that unmoving implacability etched in every line, it humbled Junpei to his very core.

Junpei recognized him, of course, this must be that Dr. Kunisawa guy, who'd taken the stand so early on, then lurked in the back of the courtroom ever day thereafter, lounging insouciantly in his seat as if bored. Speaking to no one, letting his disdain drip from every pore. Jun had hardly noticed him then, except to marvel and fume that Tsukushi had willingly dated such an asshole, who didn't even have to pretend to be nice to get his way with her.

But now, now in the few seconds it took for the pair to pass him, Tsukushi all unwitting of his presence in the shadows, Jun realized there was more to this man than he could have thought. This guy had frozen him with one look, made Jun feel afraid in a way he had not felt in years, shown Jun that he was not the most dangerous guy around, not the ruler of the pack. And that he could never be. It was humbling, and Jun didn't like being made to feel like a poser.

And it was worse than that, It was the way Tsukushi went with this man, so easily, so unconcerned, that she didn't even scan the shadows like her normal wary self. She trusted this guy; this man with the dangerous eyes, showed little fear in his presence, not like she did with Jun. And yet, it was so clear to him, that Amon was a more dangerous creature than he could ever be.

That one little look, was all it took for Jun to stop dead in his tracks, a shiver running through his spine, as he realized that he'd lost. He had lost Tsukushi. Not because of the F4, he could see that now, but because of something else. The F4 might have played a role as catalyst in this recent courtroom debacle, but a catalyst is not a cause, merely a convenience. He'd seen this lawsuit as a strategic move by the F4, instigated, driven, and run by them. And maybe it was, but Tsukushi wasn't their pawn. She wasn't owned by them, even if Tsukasa thought she was.

Junpei thought she might belong to this other man, a man he, himself did not now dare to compete with.

But that too, was wrong. The way they walked together was not as a couple, but as companions, both alone together.

And Junpei knew the truth. Tsukushi belonged to no one but herself. And she would not have him. Whatever he could hope to do would lead to naught but failure.

Jun had stood there, alone in the dark for some minutes, as their quiet footsteps receded into the night. And then, he'd turned back, wearily retracing his steps to his rented apartment. A few minutes later, he'd booked himself for an early flight out of the city and was packing his bags. No sense lingering at the site of your defeat. No sense punting around when he had a career to salvage and bills to pay.

Jun did not look forward to the weary road that lay ahead of him. But what else was there to do? There were just some battles even he knew he could not fight.

----

Rui lounged bonelessly on the ragged sofa while Tsukasa paced impatiently back and forth in front of him.

"Where is she? It's almost midnight!" Tsukasa was unhappy and willing to show it. On the coffee table before him sat a half-empty bottle of bourbon. In his hands, a tumbler of amber liquid. Yes, Tsukasa was officially off the wagon as of two hours ago.

Rui groaned and covered his closed eyes with his arm against the sight of the angry bandleader. "This is your fault." He muttered almost inaudibly.

"My fault!" Tsukasa was furious, "What the fuck, my fault? Maybe it's all your moping that she's sick of!"

Rui didn't bother to answer that, letting an eloquent roll of his eyes towards the whiskey in Tsukasa's hands say everything he needed to.

"Right. And you're so perfect, too, Mr-Why-Can't-I-Go-Out-To-The-Alley-And-Shoot-Up?"

"I never claimed perfection." Rui calmly replied, "I never promised anything. But you promised her you wouldn't drink."

"Yeah, well, so which of us is then the bigger loser?" Tsukasa fumed, "At least I Tried."

"Sure you did." Rui mocked softly, his monotone voice somehow seeming that much harsher, "You Tried. Well good for you. You also pushed her too hard, for too much, too fast."

"But. . ."

"I'm not done." Rui continued, still calmly, as if all the emotion had been leached from his tired voice, "I agreed with some of this. But I was wrong. You don't even know what you've done."

"What I've done?" Tsukasa couldn't believe his ears, "What do you mean, what I've done."

"You don't even notice." Rui covered his eyes again, "Always so blind to what you don't want to see. I'm not surprised, really, you never noticed me either."

"What?" Tsukasa froze, Rui's guilt-weighted barb cutting him too deeply for words.

"Exactly." Rui let his arm flop down, and stared directly into Tsukasa's bloodshot eyes, "You've been so caught up in your victories, and Your business, and Your goals, that you haven't noticed the price that everyone around you has been paying. Have you even looked at Tsukushi recently? Really looked at her? . . . No of course you haven't." Rui turned to stare at the ceiling as if he couldn't bear the sight of Tsukasa anymore, "And yet at the first sign that something might be going right for you, you're right back in the bottle. And you call me weak."

Tsukasa sputtered fumed, and began to curse loudly, but Rui wasn't listening anymore. He was tired, and sick at heart. He had nothing left to say. Tsukushi wasn't home. And without her, all he had was music. Music that didn't sound the same if she wasn't in his thoughts to hear it. He wished he knew what that Kunisawa man had come to say to her. He wished he didn't fear that he wouldn't like the answer. He didn't want to lose Tsukushi. But if he did lose her, he wondered, would it be because he wasn't enough to hold her, or because Tsukasa had driven her away? It would be so easy to blame everything, this new pain in his heart, this daily ache and fear, on Tsukasa and his interference, his schemes. So easy to blame Tsukasa for everything.

But instead, Rui couldn't help but blame himself.

If he lost Tsukushi, if she was too tired now to fight for him, what would he do? What would become of him? Would he be strong enough to live without her love? Or would he be strong enough to die?

Tsukasa, on the other hand, knew nothing of Rui's musings. He took another gulp of whiskey, and stared at the empty glass in his hand, then back at the bottle with longing. Had he looked at Tsukushi recently? He'd stared at her back so much, with great intensity, in court. But had he really seen her? He'd once wanted to take down Junpei for her, when had it become the other way around – that she was his tool instead? He didn't even know. But in the harsh clarity that Rui's words struck into his soul, he knew it was true. He'd lost sight of the goal. Lost sight of what it was he truly valued.

Had he lost her? It seemed all too likely. The way she'd brushed past him tonight to go out god only knows where with that Asshole Amon. The way she hadn't met his eyes. Had hardly said a word to him, to any of them in days. And he'd been so wrapped up in his plans, and his jealousy of Rui, that he'd never even noticed.

Tsukasa slowly sank into the closest chair, his head cradled in his hands, the fiery liquor he'd imbibed burning a hole in his stomach. What was any of his work for, if he hurt the one woman he'd come to love?

-----

Under the stars, Akira and Soujiro lounged on the back porch, sharing a six-pack of warmish beer between them.

"You know you shouldn't even have alcohol in the house with Tsukasa around." Akira chastised, even as he took another swig.

"Hah." Soujiro laughed hollowly, "I found this in his room."

"What?" Akira turned in shock.

"Yeah." Soujiro snorted, "I bet you anything he's drinking right now."

"He wouldn't." Akira protested, "He's been doing so well."

"So well." Soujiro echoed, shaking his head, "What the fuck are you talking about? Am I the only one who isn't blind around here? Am I the only one who sees – we're falling apart all over again."

"But the doc. . ." Even Akira couldn't make this protest convincing.

"Is only human." Soujiro scowled, and pitched a stone across the yard, "You know better than that. With her or without her, we're falling apart. Hell, I sometimes wonder if it isn't in part her fault."

"It's just this trial." Akira began again.

"Sure, sure. It's the trial. Blame everything on Jun." Soujiro mocked, "It's not only that and you know it. No, the fucking trial didn't help shit. It was a horrible idea from the start and you fucking knew it. I fucking knew it. But we didn't do anything."

"But. . ."

"No," Soujiro refused to allow the interruption. "Yes, the Doc was good for us, at first. Rui's alive, and clean. Tsukasa stopped drinking. But now what? They've both got it bad for her, butting heads like bulls in spring. What do you think would happen if she picked one or the other? Do you really think either is stable enough to cope with rejection? And she fucking lives here. Yes, yes, I know, that was my idea," He held up a hand to stop Akira's protests, "But that was then. This is now. And what of Tsukasa's dreams of empire. Are you going to ditch your guitar for a suit and tie? I sure as hell am not. Tsukasa's plans will be the death of the band. Is that what you want? Is it!" Soujiro took a deep shuddering breath to calm himself, gulped down his beer, and popped open the next one. Alcohol just wasn't enough to calm him down. Not tonight.

Akira shook his head, and drank his beer in silence. He had no words to say. Soujiro was hotheaded, and often played the fool, but he knew his shit. And he wasn't wrong.

For a long time, they listened to the crickets chirping, and the cars passing in the street, as if the solution to all their problems could be heard in the susurrations of the starlit city.

"What do you think that Amon guy wanted?" It was Akira who spoke at last, acknowledging that perhaps he'd been wrong to side with Tsukasa, and that Soujiro might have more of a clue than he.

"That guy. . ." Soujiro paused, "There's something not right with him. Dr. Makino trusts him I guess, but he looks like a snake to me."

"He seems like a total asshole. Why did he want to pick a fight with us?"

"I think he wanted to see what the doc would do." Soujiro mused, swirling the dregs of his beer around in the bottom of the bottle, "Like he's challenging us."

"But what for?" Akira shook his head, "They haven't spoken in years, and now he appears, pisses off Tsukasa and walks off with our doctor. Normal exes don't do that, do they?"

"It does seem like something Tsukasa might do." Soujiro snorted, "If Tsukushi left us. . ."

He trailed off, as their eyes met.

"No." Akira was the one to say what they both were thinking. "What is it with that girl? She's not that attractive, and she's totally psycho. But, damn does she know how to attract the crazies."

"Hah." Soujiro laughed hollowly, "You're the one who slept with her. Guess that makes you crazy too. Besides, there's gotta be something else going on. She said he never loved her in the first place. Why would he now, after all this time?"

"Don't ask me." Akira suddenly looked at his friend with narrowed eyes, "But there is definitely something going on, and we need to find out what it is before Tsukasa does. If he thinks Kunisawa is a rival, he's totally going to flip."

"Hell, let him." Soujiro bit out the words, "I don't fucking care any more. Let them all fight. If we're lucky, they'll all kill each other, and spare me the trouble."

"You don't mean that."

"Don't mean what?" Soujiro threw down his empty bottle, "Tell you what, Akira, I'm sick of all this shit. All the scheming, and the angsting and the fucking gossip. I'm beginning to wonder if we were all really meant to stay together, or if we're really just holding each other back. And now we've gone and dragged Dr. Makino down into our own personal hell, as if she didn't have it bad enough already. When does it stop? When do things get better? When do we get to be happy? For me, I know that I'm not happy, and the way things are going, I'm not going to be happy hear, around you, or Rui, or especially Tsukasa. I've put up with so much shit over the years, and I'm tired. Its always been us, us against the world, suspicious of everyone, aloof from everyone. Hell, what if Tsukushi and Amon are just out as friends? We're so suspicious of what is 'ours' that everyone else is automatically an enemy. Maybe that's what this is really all about. And I just don't want this anymore." As his voice has risen in volume, Soujiro had stood up, so that now he stood silhouetted against the city glow, a stark image of frustration.

Akira sighed, and slumped further against the railing, as if to counterbalance Soujiro's rigid posture. He'd wondered when this was coming, had hoped that it wouldn't be so soon. Not now, when things were all so chaotic, and in a turmoil. But it had been so long since Soujiro erupted, he should have known anything could trigger it. And with all that was going on, Akira wondered how much longer his nursemaiding skills would suffice to cool the fires and hold the band together.

And, as he sat in the gloom sipping the final bottle of beer, long after Soujiro had stomped back inside the house, Akira wondered if perhaps holding the band together was the right thing to do after all.

What if Soujiro had a point?

Right now, Akira just wished he had an answer. But it had been along and exhausting day, and no answers were forthcoming. Nothing to do but wait for Tsukushi's return. Nothing to do but wait for daybreak, and hope.

TBC

- - - Check it out. A chapter! A filler full of Angst. Written in, oh, 2 hours. All hail the muse of Angst. It would have been a great week, I'm sure, if I hadn't been honest for once, thereby prompting a fight that should have been had years ago. Oh the futility of debating the pros and cons of opportunities untaken, and chances passed that will never come again. Oh, the joy of having it rubbed in your face every day that you are an idiot. Some days, I wake up in tears. I hate to love my friends. So much talk. She cries he cries I cry, the 2 of us conspire against the third, he and I, she and I, he and she. And around and around it goes. So much of the lies. Too much of the truth. And so many miles in between. Is it any wonder I get no work done? Goddamned melodrama. Reminds me of the bad old days of university. Bah. - - -cm - - - -


	59. ch 59 in which Tsukushi leaves

Tsukushi glanced around her room one last time. It was almost pathetic how little effort it had taken to strip all sense of ownership from the space. Almost as if she had never existed here in the first place. Almost as if she had never belonged. Tsukushi shivered at her thoughts, despite the warm breeze wafting through the open window. Two suitcases and a computer, all that she would truly call her own. That's all it took to vacate the room. She was nothing, a ghost passing ephemerally through this world.

Perhaps she might prefer it, if that were so.

Tsukushi stooped to grab her bags, lifted them with a grunt, and headed for the door. Behind her, she left the room vacant, lonely, the clothes the F4 had bought her still hanging, unwanted, in the closet; the silly frilly underwear folded neatly in the bureau drawer. She took nothing with her from this house, save that which she had brought with her. Nothing save for her memories and her regrets.

-----

She would have liked to think that it wasn't an easy decision; that it had taken more than a moment to make up her mind after Amon's words had finally percolated through the haze of her mind, but that would have been delusion. She knew the bitter truth; that her heart had leapt like a fish freshly out of water at the chance of escape to another place. In the few instants that followed, she'd been deluged with guilt at the idea, guilt and a flood of reasons she couldn't, shouldn't, wouldn't accept Amon's offer. And she'd tried to rationalize staying, had tried, even, to argue with Amon about the rationality of his course of action, the motives behind it. She knew she was grasping at straws, that she wouldn't say no.

She simply hadn't the strength left in her any more to refuse.

Was escape from this damp and humid cruel city a path to salvation, or would it take her deeper into her own personal hell? Tsukushi could hardly be bothered to care, only knowing that to leave would be to go elsewhere. Away from her job, where nobody liked her, and everyone knew her shame, away from the familiar streets, familiar haunts of loneliness and despair. Away from the F4, their cruel needs, their demands, the burden of their affections. Away from the ache in her heart to a place where she might find the numbness she missed.

Still, in the back of her mind, she heard the echo of Amon's voice taunting her, "Everybody wants something." It was undeniably true, everyone did want something. The questions, remained, nevertheless, what exactly did Amon want with her now, after all these years? And even, what did she herself want anymore? From anyone? From life itself? All questions that for now, she could not answer.

It had taken some time for sure, but the result was never in doubt. In some ways, Tsukushi could be braver than anyone, but when it came to facing her own emotional problems, she was a total coward.

Tsukushi had finally met Amon's eyes, straight on, and nodded, a slow sad gesture. "Yes." She'd said as she set her shoulders in one decisive motion, "I'll come to California. I need a few days to tell the hospital – not like they'll care – not like they could do anything to stop me, anyway, I already stole a copy of Tsukasa's blackmail files, and settle things here. I don't suppose you happen to know of any apartments for rent?"

"Good." Amon let himself smile then, a small subtle gesture, almost masked by the perpetual frost of his eyes. "I actually have a spare bedroom at my place. . ."

"No!" Tsukushi surprised herself and Amon both by the vehemence of her exclamation, "No." she repeated more quietly, in a more musing tone of voice, "If I'm going to do this, I need to do it right. I need to stand on my own two feet." Or maybe she was simply leery of Amon's hidden motives, the predatory gleam in his eyes.

"Fine, whatever." Amon let no hint of his irritation touch his voice. How could he watch her properly, guide her path in the direction he desired, like some human bonsai, if he could not attend her closely? He would find some way – that was what he was good at after all, finding solutions to his problems. "And what about the gang of fools?"

"The F4?" Tsukushi shivered, she was trying hard not to think about them, their reactions, what they might do or say when she told them she was leaving. She couldn't not tell them; couldn't sneak away like a rat in the night. But oh, it would not be a pretty scene. Would they try to stop her? Could they? What bonds could they use to tie her down here, like some hostage to their emotional needs?

The one thing she absolutely refused to think about, even for a second, was what might happen after she left. Would Tsukasa drown his liver in a return to the bottle? Would Rui end himself? Would Soujiro leave the band and return to his philandering ways? Would Akira have a mental breakdown trying to hold the fragments of his friends together? Would the band survive Tsukasa's dreams of empires?

All these questions would weigh heavily on her if she let herself think of them. The guilt would drown her. And so, she locked them away in the back of her mind. She was just one woman, she couldn't take care of everything herself. And it wasn't like she would be abandoning them completely, after all, there was such a thing as email, even, you know, telephones. She just needed space. They would understand. They had to understand. And it Had to be OK.

Anything had to be better than this.

Teetering on the brink of meltdown, pushed and pulled, hollow to the core, drained of strength and self-respect, drained of all that she had left to give.

---

So it was done, the bargain with the devil struck.

And After, Tsukushi returned home alone, to face the F4 for what she hoped would be one final unpleasant confrontation.

Tsukasa had been waiting for her. Long past midnight, long since the point where whiskey had warmed his blood, he sat and brooded, alone in the darkened den. She'd expected questions, demands, the usual litany of Tsukasa's wants. She hadn't expected the odor of alcohol on his breath, the roughened rasp of a throat abraded with too much liquor. She'd expected to argue with him, to snap and yell, the volume rising as he swore, cajoled, and plead for her to stay, to bend obediently to his whim. She hadn't expected to feel numb inside at the sound of his words, so numb that she couldn't raise her voice in reply. It didn't seem worth it anymore. All this had been done and said before. His threats and accusations, lashing out at her, at Amon, at Rui, anyone who might have stood between them, falling on deafened ears.

"I'm leaving." Was all she had the words to say, "It's something I need to do."

"It's that Kunisawa creep, isn't it? Do you love him?"

"No. It's none of your business. He has nothing to do with my decision. I just need space." Space to find herself, regain her center.

"Space? What for? We have space here. You can't leave! Rui needs you. I need you!"

"You don't need me. You want a punching bag, you want a sponge to sop up your negativity. You want a rag doll you can bend to your whim, a god to depend on. I can't be that. I won't sacrifice myself for your ego."

"What the fuck are you talking about! Damnit woman! You belong with us and you know it! You can't fucking leave!"

"I can. I will. I belong to no one." Tsukushi sighed. She knew she wasn't getting through to him. Maybe she could, if only she had the strength to meet his fury with anger of her own, instead of the weary resignation droning through her heart. "If you really wanted me to stay, If you really loved me, you wouldn't do this to me." A low blow, but true. The words she could not say aloud, _you're destroying me, with all your needs. Please let me be me again._

"But. . ."

"But Nothing." She was adamant, "I need to stand on my own. And so do you. I can't always be there to cater to your every whim. You need to learn to cope without a crutch. You need to learn to live for you." She paused a moment in thought. "And so, for that matter does Rui. If I'm there every second to watch and guard and talk talk talk without an end to keep you from self-destruction, then I'm not really doing my job. And neither are you." She heard herself at last, getting shriller and louder as she finally warmed up to her rant. "You don't know what you want, you don't even know who the hell you really are. Are you a musician or a corporate blackmailer? Are you an incurable drunk or do you have the self-respect for sobriety? Are you in love with me, or only in love with your ego and your power over others? Do you know? I don't think so. I'm going, and maybe when you figure any of that shit out, you can let me know. I'm tired, and I have nothing left to give you. So I'm going. And you cannot stop me."

Tsukushi couldn't bear to wait for his answer, for nothing he could say could change her mind, and so she turned on her heel and resolutely strode away, her back straight, and her spine stiff. If she could face down Tsukasa, then surely she could handle her next challenge: Rui.

There was no respite for her, no escape from the interminable evening. Rui waited for her at the top of the stairs, even as Tsukasa hurried after her shouting his continued protests.

"So, you're leaving." Rui's voice was flat, as affectless as he could manage. He'd heard the shouted discussion downstairs, as anyone else with ears within a hundred foot radius had.

"Yes," And now Tsukushi had to stave off the tears once more. Against Tsukasa it was easy to think in terms of conflict and of freedom, but with Rui it was different. Rui was her project, her lover, something she had invested so deeply in. It broke her heart to leave him, the fear of losing him weighing heavily on her mind. But what choice did she have? As she was, she had nothing to offer him – could not maintain enough objectivity to be his doctor, could not free herself from her fears enough to show him the love she had felt for him. So she had to leave. Had to hope that without her he could find the strength to go on, to become once more his own person, independent and free to live without the weight of the past suffocating him. "Oh, Rui. . ." it came out almost as a sob. "It's not you. You have to know that. I would stay if I could. You know I would, but this place. This city, right now it's all too much. It's killing me. Please understand."

Rui wanted to be like Tsukasa, wanted to shout his hurt and his loneliness and the angry abandoned ache in his heart out. But that was not his way. For he did understand. He had foreseen this moment after all. It hurt every bit as much as he'd thought it would. But, much as he hated it, he knew that Tsukushi had a point. This place, this time, it wasn't right.

"Tsukushi." Rui could hardly manage any more words, the music in his mind singing a soft lament. "Don't. . ." He could not finish the words, silenced as he was by the plea in her watery eyes. All he could do was step forward one step, bridging the gap that divided them to clasp her tightly, as if to imprint her body upon his memory for all the time that they were apart. "Please, come back to me, if you can." Whispered into her hair, feeling her nod against his chest, grateful for the understanding. She made no promises though, and nor did he. For he didn't know how long he could hold himself together without her support. Couldn't promise that he would remain whole enough to be the man she thought he could be. Couldn't even promise that he would live long enough to wait for her. He would try not to hate her for leaving, try not to hate Amon for stealing her away, try not to hate Tsukasa for driving her away, try not to hate himself for not being there for her the way she needed.

Over the top of Tsukushi's head, Rui looked up to meet Tsukasa's gaze at the end of the hallway. A challenge passed between them. Rui, for once the stronger, glaring defiance at his friend and leader, daring him to interrupt, to take away the one moment of solace Tsukushi had found. Tsukasa looked away first, turned and slouched back down to the living room.

And after Rui, Tsukushi had spoken with a strangely truculent Soujiro, whose black eyes glinted with questions his mouth refused to utter. So full of witticism and words, now this man nodded and spoke tersely, merely nodding when she told him of her decision, as if it was already foreordained. She supposed he was still brooding on his own earlier confrontation with Tsukasa and was content to let the matter lie, preoccupied as she was with her own encounters, and suddenly disrupted plans for the future. She hadn't seen Akira then, but that was ok—it was late, and she wasn't leaving for a few days anyway.

The next morning was almost anticlimactic compared to agonizing events of the previous day. No more trial to go to, no more public appearances for now. Tsukushi woke with a groan and set about her self-appointed tasks of preparing to move.

"I'm not running away. I'm not, I'm not." She mentally chanted as she made her phone calls, paid bills, filled out paperwork to fax to the hospital in Cali, assuming they were still willing to take her on. Still, her heart ached, even more so during the tense silences and awkward pauses that now characterized her interactions with the men of the F4. It was like she was already gone, at least in their minds, and so her continued physical presence in the house came as a shock each time they saw her.

Many times, Rui prayed to whatever gods there might be listening, to just let her go now, before it became too much to bear – seeing her, but not having her, not being with the vibrant, bossy doctor he loved – let her go, so that he didn't have to see this empty shell that had taken her place.

Tsukasa was in agony, turning away and biting his lip every time their paths crossed, lest he lose what little control he still possessed and give in to the urge to seize her, shake her, and make her see reason.

Soujiro scowled at everyone, even Akira, even Tsukushi, and brooded about how he was going to deal with Tsukasa, what was going to the band, and tried not to think about how much he was really going to miss having Tsukushi around.

And there was Akira. He found Tsukushi late in the evening, the day before her departure. Tsukushi had gone out on the porch, for one last look at the scruffy back yard in the honey light of sunset. She was struggling not to cry as the shadows fell deeper across the yard, as if shutting the door on this period in her life. Despite everything. She would miss it here; her work, her patients, this house, the men within it, their moods, their music.

"Hiya doc." Akira broke her reverie with a deliberately casual greeting, "Rui said you were out here. Thought I'd stop by and chat a while before you left."

"Hey. Sit down. Talk." Tsukushi slumped to a seat with a notable lack of enthusiasm, "Just don't say Tsukasa sent you to try to get me to change my mind, 'cause that is just so not going to happen."

"Oh no!" Akira denied, "Nothing like that! In fact, I wanted to tell you that I'm glad you're leaving. . . Oh, not like that!" He back-pedaled quickly at the hurt look in Tsukushi's eyes, "No, really. I think it's good. Good for you. And good for us. When we first met, I didn't know what to think of you, good/bad/crazy – you were a total enigma. But you helped Rui, and I was glad. And then, yeah, I paid more attention, and noticed, in some ways you're like me. I guess that's what attracted me to you in the first place, and why I jumped you. I can't say I'm sorry that I ever slept with you. But I do apologize for making you uncomfortable afterwards. I know it hasn't been easy being here, the way Tsukasa manipulated you into being his therapist, and into living here. If I had thought about it more, instead of being annoyed by your reactions, and I guess, maybe a little jealous of the bond you have with Rui, and Tsukasa, I would have tried to do more to help you."

Even now, through this confession, Akira held his customary reserve, telling part of the truth, but not the whole truth. Yeah, he'd helped her a little, sometimes by being silly, or cooking dinner, but he'd remained largely uninvolved in her problems while his friends obsessed wholeheartedly. He'd been jealous. It was true, but not just of Tsukushi's rapport with Tsukasa and Rui, but of how Soujiro too had grown close to her, where before he'd only relied on Akira. And too, he was jealous of how she'd seemed to take his place in holding the band together. And in so doing, exposed how shaky the roots of the F4's friendship had become. They were held together not by bonds of friendship and mutual love of music as they once had been, but now glued by feelings of mutual guilt, despair, and loneliness, obsessing over the one new person who had managed to get close to them.

"Akira. . ." Tsukushi began, as if to cut off any further apologies.

"Hold on a sec, doc. I'm not done." Akira continued on with his little monologue, "I should have been a better friend. But none of us is perfect; you should know that better than anyone. If you were staying I might try to be better, but then, you're not staying. And I'm glad. I don't know all the reasons you want to leave, although I can guess some of them. What I do know, is that with you here, my friends are falling apart. I want to blame you, and maybe I could. Because I do think you're the catalyst. For years I've tried to hold Soujiro and Tsukasa together, to keep them functional and alive. All I managed was a sort of stasis. But you came in, and brought Rui back, and then everything changed. For better and worse. I don't know who Tsukasa is anymore, or Rui. Even Soujiro is different. We have issues, I know it, you know it.

"I don't think they can be worked out with you here. So I'm glad you're going. I don't know if they need me anymore. I do know that what we all need is space. Space to figure out who we are, and what we want. Hell, I don't even know if the F4 will still be a band in a week or two. It's that bad. And I know it's no good for you being here. You shouldn't have to bear all the burden of our pain. You have enough of your own."

"Hah." Tsukushi managed a weak laugh, "You'd rather take it all upon yourself. Akira Mimasaka the martyr."

"Yeah well." Akira shrugged, "It's what I do best. And no offense doc, but I'm more stable than you are. Plus, my friends aren't out to fuck me."

"There is that." Tsukushi agreed with a small sigh. "You're right, I know. I'm glad I'm not the only one here who's happy I'm leaving."

"You're not happy." Akira pointed out, "But you're welcome, and good luck in California."

"Hmph." Tsukushi snorted, "Good luck yourself. You're going to need it as much as I. If not more."

"Oh I know. God do I know." Akira lamented

And that was that. Night fell, the two went their separate ways.

---

Then the morning came.

And it was time to go.

---

Down in the foyer, the F4 stood gathered to take their goodbyes of their companion, therapist, roommate, and friend. Tsukushi couldn't stop the tears from falling as she hugged them each, murmured meaningless words and promises to call, and finally disappeared into a waiting cab.

"She's gone." Tsukasa shook his head in disbelief. "Really gone."

Rui closed his eyes against the sun, and hummed a melancholy tune.

Soujiro rested his elbows on Akira's shoulders, and leaned on his friend a while, lost in thought. "Is this the end?" he asked at last, long after Tsukasa and Rui had gone inside, "She came, she left. Is this the end of us?"

"The end?" Akira responded, "Of what? Today is the beginning of another day. I can hear Tsukasa and Rui in the basement. Let's go make some music."

And far above the city, a plane soared into the skies, flying west, and further away, to vanish at last, as a speck in the clear blue heavens.

--- Here Marks The End of Walking Wounded ----

---But not the end of our story---

--- Walking Wounded will be continued in the sequel as yet to be named ---

- - - - why end here, you may well ask? Well, simple, I couldn't face the thought of chapter 60. I mean seriously, what the fuck. This soap opera s getting bloody ridiculous. And it seemed a good place as any to break for sequel. The sequel, I promise will be shorter. And will feature improvement, or at least resolution, of most if not all of the angstful Neediness featured in this fic. I think I got way the hell too bogged down in the F4s need and dependence here. Which is why Tsukushi had to leave. I get the feeling that in too many ways thing parallels fools and idiots. But I swear, the sequel will be better. (I hope I am not lying) I know this chapter is kind of repetitive and dull, not even the best wrap up, but at least it's done, and on 3 hours of sleep plus an 18 hour work day followed by a 10 hour work day, so I don't think my incoherence is entirely my fault. . Questions, comments? If you want a reply email curdled (dot) milk (at) gmail (dot) com. - - - as ever, I remain, stressed, sleep deprived, and possibly psychotic; cm - - -


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